Bedtime Prayer
by Emo-Ki
Summary: Tweek and Craig will be together forever. Craig will make sure of that.
1. If I Die

"Why don't you smile, Tweek? You never smile." What is there to smile about, I want to ask the questioner. Why grace the world with a show of my fangs when all anyone wants to do is knock them out? Humans are the only creatures which show their teeth not in aggression, but in happiness. Its baffling to me.

"Hey! Answer me you little bitch." A hand curls the front of my shirt and I'm slammed against lockers. My vertebra connect with a lock and pain shoots up my spine. The back of my head bounces off the little metal vents in the metal doors of the lockers. When another fist hits my stomach the air whooshes out of my body.

He will get tired of hitting me eventually. They always do. It takes two pounds of pressure to shatter the cheek bone; the fist that hits just below my left eye socket has at least five pounds of pressure behind it. Blood trickles down my face like tears and stains my clothes. Before leaving he spits onto my right cheek. Just another day in paradise.

"Fucking faggot." Is breathlessly whispered as he walks away. No longer do I hear spite in that whisper, but a secret longing disguised behind icy tones and hot glares. The encounter leaves me unable to stand on my own feet and I slide down to the floor; much to the displeasure of my body. A noise makes me look up at a girl. I can see up her skirt but she doesn't seem to notice that.

Or perhaps she does because the next moment she is kicking me in the ribs with her pointed high heels. One well placed kick and she will break a rib. Summoning strength, I move out of her way. When she kneels in front of her locker I get another view of her purple striped panties. From the corner of her eye she glares at me. Finished with her business, she slams her locker.

The sound rings in my ears. As she walks away she steps on my toes. My entire body lurches forward as her stiletto heels pierce the soft leather of my shoes and stabs my toes. I open my mouth to gasp but no sound comes out. Like nothing happens a teacher goes into her classroom and closes the door. The bell screams at me to get to class.

Gingerly I get to my feet and hobble to first hour. Both of them are in my first hour Trigonometry class. When she bounces over to kiss him I feel my stomach turn in disgust and jealousy. Shame makes my face burn. As he's hugging her he looks over her shoulder at me. Even when I stop looking at him I feel his cold gaze on me as I slump into my seat.

They are the queen and king of high school. Nothing common about them except ebony hair and ivory skin. And a reputation for being beyond brutal and wickedly clever. She is the captain of the debate and cheer-leading teams and is class president. He is captain of football, soccer, baseball, track, and swim teams; and is class treasurer. Together they rule over everything and everyone.

Nothing happens without them approving it. She sits in the front corner of the room closest to the door and he sits in the back corner of the room farthest from the door so that they can see and hear everything. I sit three rows a head of him and four rows to the left of her. When she walks past me to her seat she brushes my hair. The stickiness I feel when I reach up tells me that she put gum in my hair. Our teacher walks in so I just have to deal with it until class is over.

Everyone laughs when I'm called to the board to do a problem and they see the gum in my hair. Its probably bright pink; the color of her favorite bubblegum flavor. I answer the problem incorrectly. As class goes on more gum is stuck in my hair by my other classmates. Our teacher is blind. Or perhaps she sees and just doesn't care.

There are no books to take with me to my next class. All of my books are at home, their pages blurred and torn from being waterlogged and used as Frisbees. The backpack I sling over my shoulder has one strap left and a pocket ripped off. Its empty except for a pen and my lunch. Second hour is track, which I have with him. He trips me on the way there.

In the locker room I avoid looking at the mirrors. Opening my locker I find that they stole my shoelaces. My track uniform has been replaced with a cheer uniform. Coach tells me to sit out and writes me up for not being prepared. I feel his smirk as he watches me go to the bleachers and sit down. With my eyes I follow him while he runs around in endless circles, always two laps ahead of the others even though they started at the same time. After their run I'm forced to return to the locker room and his friends snap wet towels at me until I'm cowering in a corner.

They laugh at me as they leave and a few of the other guys shake their heads in disgust. Don't be mistaken thinking they are disgusted at the actions of their teammates. Its me who disgusts them though I don't know why. Possibly because I don't fight. There isn't a reason to fight. I live because they haven't killed me yet.

Third hour is a study period. I go to the library and put books back in their proper places. The librarian is the only one in this school who isn't cruel to me. Looking at me she tsks and takes out a pair of scissors. By lunch my hair is three inches shorter. When I get home I'll shave the rest off.

Lunch finds me in the restroom. I hate lunch the most because I have no where to hide. A group of four boys walks into the bathroom. They are laughing and laugh even more when they see me. "What the fuck happened to you, faggot?" The fat one asks.

My eyes lower to the ground. I feel my face burning with embarrassment. Faggot is their favorite nickname for me. The one in the hoodie snickers. "Dude, don't make him cry." The redheaded says to the fatass.

A cruel smirk curls across the doughy face. "I'm not going to make him do anything, Jew." I cough as cigarette smoke enters my lungs. All of a sudden the air is whooshing out of me again. The blonde in the hoodie punched me square in the chest. My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water while I try to suck in some air.

It doesn't work. I fall onto the ground, almost hyperventilating. The Goth who blew smoke in my face before kneels down before me. I stare into his dead dark blue eyes. More smoke is blown in my face. "See, they made him cry not me."

The falsely innocent tone of voice comes from the fat one as water gathers in my eyes from the smoke. My vision blurs. The redhead sighs. "Lets get out of here before lunch is over." He turns and leaves with the Goth and fatass in tow. Only the one in the hoodie pauses.

His sparkling blue eyes look me over like a dog looks over a steak. "You're kinda cute, Tweekers." The others are long gone. When he walks over to the door I think he's going to leave, but he doesn't. There is a click of the lock and I know I'm in trouble. Oh please don't do what I think you're going to.

"You had better make this worth my time." Tears slide down my face. Scarred hands lower the hood and then unzip the sweater. There is nothing but scarred tan skin beneath. His blonde hair is messy but attractive. Next the scarred hands move to his zipper.

I've never had to do this before. I don't want to start doing it now. He glares hotly at me. "If you bite me, I'm going to pry out your teeth, understand?" After I nod he takes out his cock, already half hard. There isn't any other choice but to blow him.

So I do. His nails dig into my scalp and pull on whats left of my hair. When his hips rock back and forth I gag. My tongue circles him, strokes him while I suck. I have no idea if I'm doing it right but there hasn't been a complaint. Once I risk a glance upwards and see his head tilted back towards the ceiling.

As he gets closer to orgasming, his thrusts are harder and faster. It gets to the point where I open my mouth as wide as I can and relax my throat as much as I can instead of instinctively closing my throat and clamping my teeth down. Sudden heat is sliding down the back of my throat. It burns. My scalp hurts from his hand clenching so tightly. He takes a step back and I retch between pants.

"That was fun." I expect him to put his dick back in his pants but he doesn't. Instead he kneels in front of me and kisses me. Although I'm the one who just swallowed all of that cum, he tastes like sex. I put up with it, because I'm still afraid of disappointing him and facing his wrath. His hand slides down my pants.

My hips jerk up automatically, much to my disdain. The blonde grins as he strokes me. I bury my burning face in my hands. "Don't scream." This makes me look at him. In one swift movement he tugs my pants and boxers down to my knees.

Then he's on top of me, rubbing our bare skin together. I don't like how good it feels. I want him to stop. Please stop. His hands wander my chest, back, and finally ass. The next thing I know I'm on my back with my legs in the air.

My head bounces against the tile floor. But the fear that is spiking my blood has me all but ignoring my abused skull. Lifting my head up again I see him. Then I feel him. And then I'm burning from the inside out. It feels like a knife is cutting me open from my butt to my back to my legs.

He takes the rest of lunch to fuck me. It hurts the entire time. When he's finished he cleans up, snaps a picture of me, and walks away like nothing happened. I'm left laying naked and bloody on the floor. My entire body is in shock and my mind is numb. Why did that just happen?

The rape makes me late for fifth hour. Moving is agony. I limp the entire way. When I get to Literature, I gingerly lower myself into my seat. It still hurts. I don't think it will ever stop hurting.

The king is in this class with me. He sits behind me. I feel his cold silver eyes studying me. The hoodie boy walks by me and winks before stopping beside the king. He asks permission to spread the proof of me being a faggot around. Permission is granted.

Doesn't he care that I was just raped in the bathroom? Doesn't anyone care? Sadly I know the answer to that question is no. No one cares about me. So I sit in class not listening to our teacher speaking. The giggles and negative noises when the entire class gets the picture of me is also ignored.

There is no fight in me. If there ever was it is long gone by now. Its not until sixth period – Physics – that I learn the story Kenny is spreading. He caught me in the bathroom jacking off and I cried when he saw me. Because I'm the subject of the story they think its perfectly believable. The queen is in this class with me and she makes her opinion on homosexuals well known.

As if no one knew it before. Even though she's interrupting the lesson to publicly humiliate me once again, our teacher doesn't stop her. Instead I get sent to the office for doing inappropriate things at school. They watch me hobble out of the room without bothering to hide their laughter. Because this is funny. I don't understand.

It takes half an hour before the principal will see me. Seventh period – the last class of the day – will be starting soon. When she calls me into her office, I notice that the king is there. He sits in a chair looking comfortable with a blank expression on his face. Our principal holds his phone in her hand and is frowning at it. My suspicion that she's looking at me is confirmed when she shows it to me.

There I am lying on the floor with my pants down to my knees and my dick half hard. My face is bright red and there is cum on my stomach. I doubt that they can see the drops of blood on the floor from being torn open or the tears on my face from the sheer humiliation and pain it brought. "I will not tolerate this...this kind of activities going on in my school." She informs me. "I'm calling your parents."

I bow my head and nod. "This is highly inappropriate and frankly disgusting. If you ever break school code again I'm going to have to suspend you, Mr. Tweak." She thinks I'm disgusting. When she looks up and sees my broken face hers gets angrier. "You were fighting too?"

No. I wasn't. "That's it, Mr. Tweak! You're suspended from school for a week." That's the end of that. I nod and fix my eyes on the ground.

The king's phone is handed back to him. She busies herself with getting the necessary paperwork to suspend me. Suspension is something new for me. My record is virtually spotless when it comes to serious things. I never skip and I don't fight and I don't jack off in the bathroom. "You can call your parents to pick -"

"I'll take him home." My head snaps up in alarm. Did he just offer to take me home? Oh god he's going to kill me! His expression hasn't changed and he hasn't looked at me once. Our principal agrees immediately, going off on a rant about how he can teach me to be a better person and maybe some of his excellence will rub off on me.

Right. She doesn't even question him skipping seventh hour. Before we leave I'm forced to sign a document. I'm informed that my parents will still be called. The king doesn't acknowledge my presence as I follow him to the student parking lot. When we get to his red sports car I stop to stare at it.

Its a nice car. I don't even have a license let alone a vehicle. Instead of getting in the car, I limp away. Why let him kill me inside the car when he can just run me over or something like that? Every step makes my body ache. "Where the fuck are you going?"

Its the first thing he's said to me since this morning when he called me a faggot. Suddenly I'm repulsed by flesh. Especially his. Especially my own. If I could dig my nails in and rip off my skin I would. My fingers curl with the desire to get out of this skin.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I'm taking you home." I've been taken enough today. Its odd to not have my hair in my face when I shake my head no. "Get in the fucking car." His voice is colder than dry ice and more commanding than God. Warily I turn around.

He's standing there beside that red beauty with a mask of indifference on. I hesitate before walking towards him with my head lowered. Hesitate again before opening the door and getting in the car. Once my seat belt is on, he gets in with all of the grace of a panther. We don't speak on the ride to my house. I don't ask how he knows where I live because everyone knows where I live and what my phone number is.

As I limp to my front door I wonder where my backpack went. Oh well. There was nothing irreplaceable in it. On my front step I look back at the red sports car. His silver eyes are locked on me, though I can't see the color from here. When I wave he flips me off.

No one is home when I unlock the door. I know he's still there watching me lean against the door frame. I should just go in. But I want to see what he's going to do next. And I can't bare to face this empty house. He drives away.

I go inside and close the door behind me. As soon as I do the phone rings. For a moment I stare at it. Then I go and pick it up. "I'll bring your homework tomorrow." The line goes dead.

So I can expect to see him. Of course he will deliver my homework to me. No one else will. I'm still part of their flock even though I'm hated. Hate seems too tame a word. Perhaps despised is a better one. Getting up the stairs is a challenge.

It ends with me lying on the carpet at the top of the stairs crying. Victorious at a high cost. Wetness slides down my leg. I bet its blood again. Before I bleed on the carpet I haul myself to my feet and go into the bathroom. In the shower I have to stand because sitting hurts too much.

I cry some more before I'm overcome with the urge to get clean. My entire body feels dirty. I scrub until my skin turns red. Then I scrub some more. By the time I get done I've erased at least two layers of skin and I can't stop sobbing. Wrapped in a towel because its the only thing I can stand, I go to my room and lay on my bed.

The air conditioning forces me under the covers. Maybe tomorrow I will shave my head. Maybe tomorrow I'll be dead. One can only hope. The phone beside my bed rings. I pick it up.

No one speaks on the other line. For some reason I don't hang it up immediately. Its probably just a computer or bill collector. Then the first few notes of a song play. Being the avid music appreciator that I am, I recognize the song instantly. To the Moon and Back by Savage  
Garden, my brain tells me.

In the background a dog barks twice. A sliver of fear goes down my spine. It sounds like a shepherd or something similar. Then the dog is quiet and my nerves settle a little. The song is on repeat as I discover a few minutes later. Regardless of this I listen to it.

Tears dampen my skin silently. It strikes a chord in me. With everything that has gone on today, chord-striking is the last thing I need. But I can't bring myself to hang up the phone. All night and well into the morning I listen to the song that some mysterious person is playing for me. I don't even know who it is.

I'm so emotionally and physically exhausted that for once I fall asleep. When I wake up I'm in the shower and the doorbell is ringing. The phone is clutched in my hands and thankfully the water isn't turned on. My mouth opens in a silent scream when I stand up. It hurts worse today than it did yesterday. By the time I get downstairs I'm crying openly because it hurts that badly.

Unfortunately for me its the king who is standing at my door. In his hands are a notebook and papers. He holds them out to me. It takes a lot of willpower to reach out and accept my homework. "You doing anything today?" I shake my head no.

"Then I'm hanging out here." Just like that he brushes past me and plops down on my couch. I stand there with my mouth hanging open. From over the back of the couch he looks at me. "Don't just stand there with the door open." Used to obeying orders, I close the door.

"I know what he did to you." Of course he does. How could he not? He's king. And what else would I be limping for? Certainly not his girlfriend stepping on my toes with her heels or being beaten up.

"Don't worry, he's getting whats coming to him." This is a very shocking situation. I follow my instincts to go upstairs to my room. Once there I ease onto my bed and lay on my stomach. If I could die right now, would he be accused of killing me? Footsteps alert me to his presence.

"Why is it you never go to a hospital?" Because they think everything I do is self inflicted. If I went yelling rape, they would think it was my own fault. That I was too rough with myself or something. Everyone in this town thinks I'm crazy and I don't know why. If I could change things I would but I don't know how.

He enters my room and sits on the edge of my bed. "I broke your face and you didn't even go to the nurses office. He raped you and you didn't say a word to the contrary when they spread lies about you." I guess the king isn't as oblivious as I thought he was. Then again, I knew he was a genius. It occurs to me that maybe I'm just a lab rat to him.

An experiment of theirs that the entire town is in on. My tears are tried up for now so I don't cry even though the thought depresses me. Suddenly my skin prickles and as I'm shying away I see him reaching a hand towards me. He stops. We stare at each other. "Okay."

Simple as that as if we've just had an entire conversation, he says okay and drops his hand. "Why don't you talk?" With one eye I look at him. Its been so long since I've spoken that I don't recall why I stopped in the first place. "You used to be loud, always making noise. Now you're quieter than the dead."

He's making me an outcast among the dead as well. Maybe king is too lowly a position title for him. Perhaps he is god. "This is going to be really boring if I'm the only one talking." With a sigh I get up and wince with the movement. He watches me limp slowly over to my blackboard.

I pick up a piece of white chalk and begin writing. My handwriting is tiny cursive, made only slightly bigger by being on the chalkboard.

_Why are you here?_

"Ask something else."

_What else is there to ask?_

He frowns thoughtfully. I stare at him. "Fine." But he isn't looking me in the eye. "I'm bored and tired of everyone groveling at my feet." I don't believe him.

_Then go home._

Implying that I also grovel, but that isn't entirely true. Then again, he doesn't order me around much. I suppose he figures I'm pretty useless. "I don't want to." Typical response. Since I doubt he's going to leave, I decide to steer the conversation in a different direction.

_Why are you dating her?_

No need to elaborate who she is. The king knows his queen. To my surprise he looks uncomfortable behind his mask. "Why not? She's in a position of power and has significant influence on students and staff alike. No need to be against her when I can be with her."

_You don't care about her?_

"No." A smirk appears. "You jealous?" His tone is almost teasing. I shake my head and am reminded once more that I don't have a lot of hair anymore. I miss it.

_I've had enough of guys._

Something steals across his face before the mask is back in place. "Right. Are you okay?" That's the dumbest question I've ever heard. Instead of writing something out, I shake my head again. Maybe when I'm dead I'll be okay.

I'm not counting on it though. "Where are your parents?" Since I honestly don't know, I shrug. Usually they go to wine tastings and art galleries which I think are like the same thing. "No siblings either." He says more to himself than to me.

_Why are you really here? You don't care about me and I don't like you anymore than you like me. Did you come to give them a good story about how faggot Tweek is crying in his room because I was caught jacking off and now the whole school knows?_

I say jacking off because he would never tell them the truth. That the cum on my stomach wasn't mine. That one of his pawns raped me. That they all have a picture on their phones that isn't what it looks like. "I told you, I'm bored and tired of them. Obviously you haven't noticed I'm not the one who spreads rumors."

I think about the rumor thing. And realize that I never have actually heard him spread a rumor. Not about me, not about anyone. On the other hand, gossip gets delivered to him quite frequently. Interesting. Or it would be if I cared.

_Why won't you leave me alone?_

"You're entertaining." Is the answer I expected. Just because I expected it doesn't mean it hurts any less. With a trembling hand I erase all that I've written. By the time I crawl back into bed I'm trembling. My energy is gone.

I'm as helpless as I've ever been in my life and he's sitting right next to me. He wants entertainment and I'm about to pass out. Who knows what he will do to me. Maybe he'll steal things. Maybe he'll get me into trouble with my parents whenever they return. I've realized that I don't care.

Before I pass out I open my eyes to look at him. His silver eyes gleam back. I think carefully about what I want to say. My mind has to scramble for the shapes my mouth has to make so I can speak. "Craig Tucker, I want you to end this. Leave me alone or kill me, I don't care which, just get out of my life."


	2. Before I Wake

When my parents returned from wherever two days later, I fixed us all dinner. It was just spegetti. They didn't seem to notice my face or my limping. One look into their eyes and I can tell they are so out of it. Too much wine, probably, too many little pills popped. If only I could do the same but as a child I have responsibilities.

Life is so unfair. They said half sentences to each other, somehow having a full conversation. Maybe my lack of speaking is inherited from them. Its just they talk so much, that I don't believe it has anything to do with them. While they chatter about a strange painting of a dog in the fog, I obsess over what happened last time I saw the king. I spoke to him.

Words from my mind were made known by my mouth and vocal chords. For my silence I have taken beatings, bullying, so much hatred. Why on Earth would I break that silence? Already raped, I feel dirty; now with breaking my code of silence I feel pathetic. Dirty and pathetic and something unworthy of anything good. I don't even have the assurance of heaven, otherwise I probably would have killed myself a long time ago.

I'm at that point past depression, past suicide. Its a gray area that not many encounter because they are strong enough to die before getting here. Nothing I do is me fighting to keep crawling through life. Of course no one knows any of this. The only scar that is self-inflicted is covered up at all times. Without a word to my parents I get up and walk away from the table.

Conversation doesn't even pause. Neither of them looks up. Sometimes I wonder if they remember they have a son. My body still hurts but not as much as it would have had I not been forced into this break. Most of it I have been spending on my bed because I feel too sick to do much else. That is, with the exception of him coming over.

I haven't seen him since I told him to stay out of my life or kill me. For this I am thankful. With my parents home I don't know how I'm going to stay on the phone all night again. They are going to be upset when they see the phone bill at the end of the month. At nine o clock pm exactly the phone beside my bed rings. Before it can ring twice I answer it.

Last night was Focus by 10 Years. Before that it was Chasing the Sun by The Wanted. The night I last saw Craig was Tears Don't Fall by Bullet For My Valentine. Tonight its Stereo Hearts by Gym Class Heroes. As always I listen with my eyes closed. I still tense when the dog in the background barks, but it doesn't surprise me as much anymore.

Tomorrow I'll analyze the lyrics of the song. It was implusive the first time. I decided I liked what I had heard. They are love songs, more or less. Even if this is some cruel prank I don't care because it makes me less miserable. My heart pounds in time with the music.

On the other end of the line I imagine someone sitting with the mp3 player on repeat. They probably have their eyes closed too. Maybe they are smiling. Or petting the dog that I'm sure is right there. I bet they are thinking of me. What do they think of me?

Then again, what if they don't even know that its me getting these songs. Some poor boy could be dialing the wrong number. My ears may not be the ones meant to hear the repeated tunes. I try not to think of that. Imagining the songs are for me is a lot better than worrying about them not being for me. Quietly I sigh, though not with discontent.

Tomorrow will be Saturday. Its the trackmeet but I will be neither running nor sitting on a bench. With any luck I'll be here in bed. Then again, good luck is something I don't have. Tonight I don't sleep. At precisely six in the morning the other end of the phone goes dead.

I fantasize about being able to talk to the person on the other end. The shower I take is hot. My face really hurts and I imagine its pretty messed up. Being careful to limit my movements I slip on a long sleeved t-shirt and gym pants. One sleeve of the shirt keeps slipping off to expose my shoulder. All of my shirts are like this.

Shaving my head without looking in the mirror isn't as easy as I thought it would be. So I get my mother to do it for me. She doesn't ask why and even if she did I wouldn't have told her. To be honest I didnt realize how cold it is without hair. So I invest in a black beanie I didn't know I had. Its in with the winter stuff up in the attic.

In the box I find something I haven't seen in a long time. Its a blue chullo with yellow tips and a big yellow puffball at the top. Why is this here? Hesitantly I lift it to my face and inhale. Immediately I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia. The chullo doesn't smell exactly like him.

Its more the sharp guinea-pig bedding, snow, and Craig scent. Now the king smells like sex and heat and sweat. Beneath all of that is the original scent. Why do I know what the king smells like? Deciding to get some answers, I clutch the blue hat and go downstairs. Mom is in her studio painting something or another.

It looks similar to a dying giraffe. Mutely I place the hat on her leg and back away. Mom looks down at it and to my surprise smiles. "Oh, where did you find this?" Before I can point to the attic she notices the beanie on my head and nods to herself. "I haven't seen this in years."

Referring to the hat that she is now looking down at with a sad sort of smile. "It belonged to that boy you always had over...What was his name? Chris, Chase." Suddenly she claps her hands together. "Craig; Craigifer Tucker."

Craigifer is Craig's real name? I must say that I'm impressed. Its a very kingly name in my opinion. More important than that though is what mom meant by always having Craig over. I don't recall ever hanging out with him. "You two used to do everything together."

"You both swore you were going to marry each other. Oops, sorry hun, its just something I overheard a few times at a few of your sleepovers." My jaw is hanging again. Why don't I remember any of this? Marry Craig Tucker? Me?

Never! If we were really such great friends and apparently close like that, what happened to us? Perhaps my mother is talking about another Craigifer Tucker. But there is no other Craigifer Tucker who wore a blue chullo with a yellow puffball. "Your father probably remembers more about it than I do." Quickly I take back the snow hat and go to find my father.

Unlike with my mother, when my father sees the chullo his expression is anything but smiley. In fact, he seems a little angry. "That Craig Tucker! I don't know what he did to you on your trip to Peru but you've never been the same since." I've been to Peru? "It was about sixth grade when you two stopped talking to each other."

Then my father goes on about what he would like to put in Craig Tucker's coffee and I leave. The hat comes with me, of course. In my room alone I lock the door. There must be something here, some sort of proof that the king and I were friends. Or at least proof of this Peru trip I don't remember. My hunt begins.

All of Saturday I tear apart my room. Every paper, every nook and cranny is explored. I go so far as to take apart my furniture, overturn my mattress, and unscrew the air vents. Then I start on the walls. With my knuckles I rap every few inches to check for something that sounds off. But everything is as it should be.

My search turns up nothing. The only thing it accomplished is making me exhausted and angry. Well, I should probably say mores so of both. What am I going to do if I don't find out soon? Talking to the king is something I really don't want to do. Besides, he would probably deny it.

Tonights song is Here Without You by Nickelback. Sunday morning I get out of bed bright and early to find that my parents have gone to protest something and won't be back until tomorrow night at the earliest. Since I'm used to being alone I don't feel anything when I throw the note in the trash. The one person I don't want to see rings my doorbell. My only reason for answering the door is because I want to question him.

This time when he walks in I notice that he has a familiar attitude like he's been here a lot. Thinking back to yesterday, he didn't even hesitate to wander my house. "Sleep well?" I shake my head. He looks at me more closely. Fast as lightning he snatches my hat off my head.

I go to grab it back. "Ah, ah, Tweek, ask nicely." All at once I decide he can keep it. When I don't make any movement to get it back, the noirette frowns. With a sigh he shoves it in his pocket. My head is freezing.

I lead the way to my room. "You didn't show up to the meet yesterday." The flick of my hand is supposed to mean that he got me suspended so even if I felt up to going I couldn't. "We won." Of course we did. This time the chalk I pick up is pink.

Instead of asking what I meant to ask, something totally different comes out.

_Are you here to kill me?_

A silence in which we both recall the other day decends upon us. "No." Once again he's sitting on my bed. Like he belongs there. I'm surprised it lives up to his standards. Maybe it doesn't but its the only place in my room to sit other than the floor.

_Why not?_

"I don't want to kill you." Then, as though remembering who we are, he adds, "I'd get bored too fast." The blunt answer doesn't hurt any less than the punches.

_When did I stop talking? _

The king's poker face is quite impressive. "I don't know. Back in junior high I think," Its weird how I don't remember the decision to stop speaking. "Why did you stop?" Since I don't rightly know the answer to that myself I shrug.

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" What had been a scolding for missing the meet is suddenly turning into a conversation. One that isn't entirely one-sided like our usual ones that end up with me injured. Speaking of which, I haven't looked at my toes since they were stabbed.

_Who else am I going to ask?_

He shrugs because he knows I don't have any friends. Anyone else I ask will lie to me. How do I know he isn't lying to me now? Its strange that I assume he isn't. I sit down on my floor and look at my toes. They could be worse; just the skin between two is torn.

"What happened there?" Children won't cry until they look at their wounds, see the blood. It didn't hurt until I looked at it. Though, I'm not a child. Seventeen years old is not a child, no matter who says otherwise. With a quiet sigh I get to my feet and begin writing.

_Wendy did it with her stilettos._

"Ah. She's gotten me a few times with those damn shoes too." Neither of us adds that it wasn't on purpose when she stepped on him. I erase the pink from the blackboard. As I watch the noirette king lean back I remember something; his hat is beneath my pillow. Should he find it I believe I would be in trouble.

Since I don't know how to go about hiding it better, I just stare at him. He stares back evenly. My nerves are on edge the longer we look at each other. I want to scream at him, but my voice would break under that kind of use. Kenny telling me not to scream was a useless command. Even if I wanted to at the time I couldn't have screamed.

_What did you do to Kenny?_

Craig reads the question. He regards me thoughtfully. "Don't worry about it." That gives me no peace of mind. "It won't happen again." It should be a relief to hear that but its not in the slightest.

Even before the sentence was all the way out my mind was telling me that maybe not by Kenny it won't happen again, but someone else could rape me. When the king rises I flinch back. Silver eyes watch me and I can't tell what is going through his head. "What have you been up to since you got suspended?" He joins me at the blackboard and picks up blue chalk. In one corner he scribbles his name a few times in a different script each time.

_Laying in bed mostly._

"Do you still hurt?" The expression I give him has him nodding. Inspite of this I find myself writing something a little suicidal.

_I know you aren't stupid, so why do you keep asking stupid questions?_

When he reads it I expect him to hit me. To break my face even more. Or maybe to trash my blackboard. Instead he laughs. The next instant he sobers up. "What if I stopped talking like you, Tweek?"

I think about what would happen. His kingdom would come crashing down around him. Loyal subjects hurt and feeling betrayed that their beloved king will no longer speak to them. Wendy would have a cow. Everyone would turn violent. They would probably blame me.

_It would be worse for me._

"Why would they blame you?"

_Because I don't talk. Where do they think you are right now?_

His grin tells me that I was correct in guessing they don't know he's been hanging out with me. "With my uncle, hunting." Every king from the fairy tales hunts, I tell myself. Why shouldn't this one? "So is that all you think will happen if I go silent as well?" He prompts me.

_No. Your loyal subjects will turn on you. You'll likely be lowered to my status._

Craig leans forward. I lean back. His eyes tell me he wants to kiss me. Instead he says, "You're just as smart as I am Tweek. Why won't you speak to anyone?"

Without breaking eye contact I scribble out a sentence behind me. Silver flickers from my face to the pink writing.

_I just spoke to you._

"Thats true." His breath tastes minty in my motuh. I want to get away. My skin crawls at the closeness. I don't move an inch. The pupil of his eye widens slightly.

Craig backs off. A breath of relief comes from me. He looks like he wants to say something. Instead he turns and makes his exit. There is no goodbye. No promise to come back later.

When he leaves I take the chullo from underneath my pillow. Knowing that its wrong to be in love with the person abusing you and being in love with them are two totally different things. If I never felt love I would be happier. Probably. Precisely on time the phone rings. This song I don't recognize.

The key words pop out at me. Talk, lovers, memory, rain, tradgey, kiss. Why rain is a key word I don't know. Screaming from the vocalist has me feeling something primal. Normally I don't cry this much. To be honest I thought that my tears hard dried up long ago.

Sunday I look up the lyrics and find out that last night's song is Here Comes The Rain Again by Hypnogaja. I put all of the songs on my Ipod. This Ipod never sees the inside of the school. I'm not so stupid as to take it there. All of Sunday it snows so I stay inside.

From nine at night to six in the morning The Howling by Within Temptation plays. This change in song worries me. Its not a love song. What on Earth is this? Howling, killing, night, nightmare, Hell. Tonight the dog barks almost constantly in the background.

I swear I hear screaming. By Monday morning I'm terrified out of my mind. Sitting up in bed trembling, I can't seem to hang up the phone. Even after the other end goes dead I sit with the phone clutched in both hands, eyes wide and unblinking, staring at the wall. What happened? My entire body is stiff and sore when I ease out of bed.

Desire to know what happened drives me from my bed downstairs to the front door. Before I can leave, though, my parents get home. "Where are you going sweetie?" Mom asks me. I shrug and push past them. Who knows where the hell I'm going.

As I walk down the cold streets without my beanie to keep my head warm it occurs to me that I should find out who in South Park has a dog. A big dog. One with a loud, intimidating bark. But that sounds terrifying to me. Trying to think off the top of my head who owns a dog and who doesn't is nearly impossible. None of the kids really talk about their dogs.

Not even Facebook would give me an answer since I have no friends. Actually, I deactivated my account a long time ago since I was just getting hate mail. The same with my email address. The only way to find out if they have dogs is to ask around or snoop around. Neither sounds appealing. So I let my feet take me where they want to.

I end up at the coffee shop. Its a nice place to go when no one else is there. My dad works there even though he takes off a lot to go with mom out of town. In his place he hired Shelly Marsh. She's not as mean as her brother but I still don't like her. Sometimes I work there too, when I can manage it.

Unlike her, I get paid under the table. Today Shelly is running the place. "What are you doing out of school, turd?" she asks when she sees me. I know she isn't expecting an answer and I don't give her one. "Stan told me you got suspended for jacking off in the bathroom."

She takes out her phone and I know she's looking at the picture of me. "What happened to your hair." I make a scissors motion. "Well duh you cut it. I was asking why, idiot." Without even looking at me she starts txting someone.

I bet its her younger brother. A while later she laughs. "You got gum stuck in your hair? Stupid." Rather than work here with her harassing me the entire time I leave the store. This time I end up at the other end of the tracks.

Kenny lives around here somewhere in a meth lab shed. A pinch of fear gets my heart beating fast. Usually I can outrun anything that tries to chase me but I can barely walk upright without pain, running is pretty much out of the question. So I turn around. Going back over the tracks, I pause on them. Part of me wants to get hit by a train.

Part of me wants to to be mangled by this train; have my guts and limbs strewn about the tracks. Then I take another step, then one more and I'm out of danger. All around South Park for most of Monday I wander. When I get home mom is in her studio and dad is at work. The sun is going to set in a few hours but really I just wanted to make it home before school ended. If I stay out any later I will be sure to run into the undesirables that are my classmates.

Falling For You by Jem is the song tonight. It puts my nerves somewhat at ease. The dog doesn't bark even once. Perhaps it was killed. That someone who is playing me love songs would kill a dog doesn't make me very happy. I want to ask who this person is. And do they really love me?

Tuesday morning I show up at school at the last minute. Only to be stopped by the principal on the way to class. "I couldn't get ahold of your parents, Mr. Tweak." Thats not my fault; what does she want me to do about it? I just blink at her. "Do they have cell phones?"

Truthfully I shake my head. They aren't the only ones without a cellphone; I don't have one either. No point in having one when it would either be ruined at school or sitting at home useless. The principal purses her lips but doesn't say anything aside from, "Get to class." Obeying her orders, I go to class.

Because of her conversation I end up being a few minutes late. A frown from the teacher is what I'm rewarded with. Mark sticks out his foot, tripping me. My chin scrapes the floor. Snickers rise from the student body. Without a sound I get back up and go to my seat.

I don't even look at the king. If he doesn't want to be associated with me then I won't make him. Just another day in Hell. Part of me wants to be suspended still. Maybe get expelled and move out of South Park. "Did you hear what happened to Kenny?"

Cartman whispers to Kyle. I tilt my head to the side. "I heard he was attacked by a dog." Kenny was attacked by a dog? The dog barking on the phone the other night, the song, Craig's words. Without thinking I turn in my seat to stare openly at the king.

He glances up and flips me off before returning to his work. He's right. It can't be him. As I go to face forward again Bebe catches me looking in her direction. For reasons beyond me, she claws my face and says in a disgusted tone, "Pervert."

My mouth is hanging open but I quickly close it. Rightening myself again I wonder what exactly was perverted to her. Raising my hand to my cheek I feel blood. My face stings a little. Nothing I can do about so I just wipe my fingers on my jeans. The rest of class passes without incident.

Second hour I sit on the bleachers while everyone else runs. The king is faster than all of them, as usual. I'm the only person who may be able to outrun him but I'll never know because they never let me run on an actual track. I'm only ever allowed to run for life through the streets. In the locker room all everyone talks about is Kenny being attacked by dogs. They say that the dog bit off his dick.

At hearing this I can't help but feel satisfied. Not only that, but also terrified. A dog bit off a dudes dick. What if I was the next person to be attacked? Not that I'm really putting mine to good use, but still. I have no complaints with it.

During my free period in the library someone knocks an entire shelf of books onto me. It seems that every corner of every book hits my back and head. When the librarian sees me she shakes her head and tells me to leave. Her books are damaged so she's upset with me because she knows that if I didn't exist her books would be just fine. Even though I try to help her clean them up she just shoos me out of the library. My only haven in this school and I'm thrown from it.

The next safest place is where the Goths smoke. I'm hesitant to get near them because they have something against me as well. Not only that but they are almost outcasts of the kingdom. Craig doesn't control them. He only asserts his dominance when they cross lines. Their kohl-lined eyes watch me approach.

Though I'm a good five feet from them, they feel the need to attack me. Two boys and the girl hold me down while the tall Goth stares at me. There is no remorse in his eyes, no sympathy, as he presses the lit part of the cigarette to my arms. He burns me until the cigarette goes out. Then he takes out a lighter. As I'm burned repeatedly I don't shed a single tear.

My body convulses, trying to get away from the scorching heat, to no avail. They have me securly pinned down. This torture lasts until lunch. A part of me wonders why they stopped just because its lunch time. Even after they leave I lay in the snow on my back. Clyde wanders over and delivered a sharp kick to my ribs.

I curl in on myself. He walks away laughing. Kevin throws a drink at me. The dark liquid splashes across my face. From the drops that find their way to my tongue I deduce its Pepsi. "What a waste of good soda, dude."

Clyde scolds Kevin. The longer I lay here in the snow the colder it gets. Without hair, its even colder than it normally would be. Even as I tell myself to get my sorry ass up, another part of me wants someone to rescue me. To treat me like a damsel in distress, which I'm certainly feeling the distressed part of. If any damsel was treated like me she would most certainly be feeling distressed.

When it becomes clear that no one will save me, I get up. My entire body is shaking from the cold. In Literature I'm shaking so horribly that I keep dropping my pencil. The entire desk vibrates with the violent nature of my shaking. After dropping my pencil five times in three minutes, our teachers tells me to forget working today. She doesn't ask why I'm trembling so much.

Half way through sixth hour is when I finally warm up enough to stop shaking. My entire body hurts from being so tense and contastantly moving. The queen must have given everyone orders to make my life more of a Hell since I was suspended and they couldn't torment me. The first time I drop my pencil, someone steps on it after I reach down. Both the pencil and my fingers snap. That was my writing hand.

Not that I do a lot of schoolwork in the first place. Its not for lack of trying; at least not in the beginning it wasn't. There was a time when I actually tried in spite of all the negativity that happens to me. As time dragged on it became increasingly difficult to bring anything to school so eventually I stopped all together. So I listened to everything the teachers said and memorized it. When they found out what I was doing, they made listening and paying attention even harder than normal.

Now I scrape by, managing to learn the material through the internet. Breaking my fingers was the beginning of class. Cartman gave me a wetwillie and launched spitballs at me from across the room. Red drew a picture of me sitting in an electric chair dying. When everyone else found out about her drawing, they had to give it a shot. By the end of class I had twenty drawings all of me dying in some painful way.

Rebecca also felt the need to clap the chalkboard erasers in my face so the dust made me sneeze and cough. Someone, I think it was Token, threw a full pack of chalk at the back of my head as I was walking back to my seat. Chalk isn't exactly light, and it hurt. Bebe stuck out her foot and I tripped over that. My face landed in Heidi's purse. She kicks me in the temple so hard that my vision goes black and my head swims.

Seventh hour is History. Its the smallest class I have, consisting of only six students including myself. The king is in this class. "Its time for a project." There is a collective groan around the room. "I'm gong to pair you up into groups of two and I want you to tell me the complete history of slavery in America."

"Mr. Tweak, you especially need to do a good job. Because you were absent all of last week you missed the big test." Oh man why does she have to single me out? The test I totally forgot about. "Henrietta, you're paired up with Kyle. Nichole and Token are together."

"Mr. Tucker and Mr. Tweak are going to work together." Everyone, including the Goth girl Henrietta, gives Craig sympathetic looks. Token even goes so far as to clap the king on the back. "I assume you can handle him, Mr. Tucker?" Our teacher confirms. Do they think I'm a total idiot spazz or something?

Like the cool king he is, Craig merely says, "Of course." Our teacher tells us that the porject is due in one week. I slump in my seat as best I can and stare down at my scuffed converse. School projects are always a good excuse for pairing people together who want nothing to do with each other. Then again, thats not entirely true.

Screaming bells announce that school is over. On my way out, Craig catches me. He grabs my arm. All brain function shuts off as I slump to the ground. The king goes down with me, surprised at my sudden dead weight. My heart is pounding painfully against my chest.

Fear rises up inside me so fast I have no time to prepare for it. He. Is. Touching. Me. HE IS TOUCHING ME!

"Tweek?" My name sounds distant. All of a sudden I'm in a grassy meadow. Its quiet here aside from bird song and the gentle murmur of the brook flowing. Before my eyes flowers and trees spring up. The fear leaves me as I sit down in the cool feathery grass.

There is slight pressure on my arm. Then on my shoulders. Its nothing to worry about though. A breeze kicks up. In the back of my head I hear someone yelling to "leave him the fuck alone!" Its quiet though, barely a whisper, so distant that I scarcely register it.

I don't know how long I stay in the meadow. Time has no meaning here. Its always daytime and the sun never moves. I haven't been there since I was a child. When I leave the meadow its dark. And I'm moving.

Before I can panic, I hear his voice. "You're in my car. I'm taking you home." He's driving, keeping his eyes more on the road than on me thankfully. "What happened?"

Because I'm not going to break my vow of silence again, I don't answer. This angers him, I can tell. He's all twisted up inside like a tense rubber band and I don't understand why. The car stops in front of my house. Finding it dark is unsurprising.

When I try to get out, I find that the door is locked. I turn to face him, fearful and accusing at the same time. "Tell me what happened. What was that?" If he thinks he's going to get an answer out of me like this, Craig Tucker is sadly mistaken. I point up to my room, hoping he will get it.

He does. "Fine." When I'm let out I nearly fall onto my face. From the corner of my eye I see him make a movement like he wants to help me up but thinks better of it. I let us in and we go to my room. This time I pick up green chalk.

_You touched me._

It feels like he stares at it forever before actually speaking. "Thats it? You...did that because I touched you?" I nod. Shame burns through me again. My eyes stray to the clock and I see its almost nine.

I have to get him out of here.

_I think I'm aphenphosmphobic._

"Which means what?"

_It means I have a fear of being touched._

Now why I would tell him this, I don't know. Some part of me trusts Craig. A stupid, suicidal part of me. Things click into place for him. I can see it on his face. "This is Kenny's fault or have you always been like this?"

Before writing my answer I hesitate. Certainly I've never enjoyed being touched. Touch is something that just brings pain. However, this has never happened before.

_Always had the phobia but its never been this bad. What was I like?_

"You fell on the ground and stared at nothing. Didn't even blink, just stared. One look at you and anyone could tell that you weren't just seeing through everything." Craig's tone is nuetral but his body language tells me that he's stressed out. The king sighs.

"Okay." He says more to himself than to me. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow after school for our project." Hesitantly I nod agreement. With only a nod he departs.

A few minutes later at nine the phone rings. The song tonight is Raining Again by Staind. It doesn't make me happy. My heart feels heavy. When the dog barks I drop the phone. All night long it snows and I cling to Craig's chullo.


	3. I Beg The Lord

It turns out that my fingers aren't broken. They just hurt a lot. Wednesday at school is strange, to say the least. There is a tension in their air that there wasn't before and though I feel everyone is more hostile towards me, they don't touch me. I don't get tripped, shoved, hit, pinched, kicked, stepped on, or anything else of that nature. Instead they snap at me like angry dogs through a cage.

Both king and queen seem to be rubbing each other the wrong way. She snaps at him a lot even though as far as I can tell his behavior hasn't changed. Everything she says seems to grate against his nerves like a grater against cheese. The only thing I can think of that could have happened to change everything is me. Me and that thing I did yesterday when Craig touched me. Why that would change a thing I don't know.

Kenny doesn't show up to school today either. After school Craig tells me to get in his car. Everyone watches us. And I mean everyone. Hesitantly I obey, because what else am I going to do? We drive to my house.

Mom and dad are home. When Craig walks into the kitchen behind me they both stop what they are doing. Mom looks like she's looking for an answer to a difficult math problem and dad looks like he wants to beat in Craig's face. Eventually mom breaks the awkward silence. "Well, its certainly been a long time since we've seen you, Craigifer."

My vision goes a little blurry all of a sudden. I hear mom's voice slowly asking "So are you two back together?" The entire kitchen swims. For some reason I can't move a muscle. Suddenly I see dad rushing at Craig, but its like someone is playing back a movie super slow.

They slam up against the wall in slow motion. "I thought I told you to stay out of this house and away from my son!" Something happens next that I don't catch. The fog lifts all of a sudden and everything is as it was. "Yes, it has been a long time. What brings you here?"

What just happened? They act like nothing happened. I shake my head to clear it. Did that actually happen? "Tweek and I have a project to work on for history." Craig replies calmly.

With my parents still watching us we go to my room. I don't say anything to Craig about the incident because I'm not sure it really happened. "They seemed glad to see me." The noirette mumbles as he takes out his notebooks. "Where are your notes?" He asks when he sees me standing in the doorway.

I shake my head. "What do you mean you don't take notes?" His voice is irritated. I go to my chalkboard and erase our conversation from last night. Today I use blue chalk.

_Why do they remember you and I don't?_

Craig opens and closes his mouth a few times. Then he looks away. "There isn't anything to remember." Even though I have no proof aside from his hat – which I've hidden under my mattress – I know he's lying. If I go to his house maybe I would find proof. Proof of what, though?

Friendship or love or something else? It doesn't matter. I'll know it when I see it, I think.

_They said I'm different after we stopped talking to each other._

"We never spoke to each other."

_You're lying._

I feel his desire to walk out on me. And I don't understand it at all. "What proof do you have?"

_They remember you. And I have your chullo._

His face turns angry for a second before the mask settles back into place. I always seem to bring out the emotions in him. "You probably stole it." Faggot isn't added to the end of that sentence, which surprises me.

_I am not a thief._

"You don't know what you are." Craig snarls at me. He advances. Only to stop a few feet away. A tan hand is dragged through his ebony hair. "Why don't you fucking smile?"

His voice is desperate. "Smile, Tweek! You've gotten what you wanted, so fucking smile!" My king is falling apart. Instinct tells me that I don't want to be anywhere near him when he breaks. Instead I take the time to write again.

_What are you talking about?_

A bestial sound comes from him. "Stop writing on that fucking blackboard and talk to me! Fucking talk to me! I miss your voice!" Fear spikes my blood. The hair on the back of my neck rises.

Craig gets closer. He's invading my space. "Do not clock out on me, Tweek." His voice is hard. I think I'm going to die. That's how negative the feelings are inside of me, I'm going to die if he gets any closer.

Why is he so angry? What the fuck did I do to him to make him like this? In my chest my heart is pounding hard and fast. I think its going to burst from my chest. The fear has me almost hyperventilating. An expression crosses his face like he wants to hit me.

Before actually hitting me, Craig turns and stalks from the room. I slide to the ground, my knees too weak to hold me up. Tears slide down my face and I taste salt on my tongue. A hand goes to my heart even though I don't know what I hope to accomplish by putting it there. For a crazy second I imagine pushing my hand into my chest and tearing out my heart.

I imagine staring at the bloody organ beating in my hand. Wouldn't that be a beautiful sight? Dying, connected by a few frail tendons, staring at what is probably a healthy heart but feels so empty. The grotesque picture vanishes. The carpet is itchy on my face but I can't bring myself to move. My skin is slick with sweat and my heart just won't slow down.

Craig isn't even here – his backpack is laying on the floor – in this room and my body is still reacting. Even after my tears dry up and my breathing evens out I lay on the floor. When he comes back in, I haven't moved. He sinks to the floor, leaning against my bed. Tension is thick between us. After a long silence, he finally speaks.

"Do you want to start it now or tomorrow?" It takes a lot of effort to make my shoulder move in a shrug. Silence descends once more. "Tweek?" I look at him. "Do you think we can start over?"

After everything he has put me through, he wants to start over? My head swims a little when I sit up but I write out one word. No. Silver eyes take it in and look away again. "Okay." He looks at me again.

"Are you okay?" I reply with a question of my own.

_Have I ever been okay?_

Silver eyes get dark, rather than light as I would expect with the answer he gives me. "You were. Once." I caught him.

_I thought we had no history._

He looks at the board, me, and back again. A smirk graces his features. "You're too clever for your own good." Even though the topic is still a sensitive one, I think that the mood has lightened a little. That's good because I want to get him out of here as soon as possible. Even if I am curious about our shared history and my missing memory.

We get to work on our project on slavery in the US. Its sad, really, how they were treated. But in my position I find it more difficult to sympathize with them than I would if I was someone else. Somehow I don't feel the kindred-spirit thing I thought I would feel since we're all abused. Instead I criticize them for not rising up sooner. There were more of them and they could do something about their shitty lives if they just stood together.

Craig goes home at eight thirty. Mom and dad watch me let him out the front door but don't say a word to either of us. That night I don't get a phone call. All parts of me are more than a little sad. I look forward to those phone calls. They are the best part of the night.

I end up staring out the window at the snow falling. Around three in the morning someone walks by my house. Tall, dark, with a German Shepard on the other end of the leash. Shadows hide his face, but I know its a man. His walk seems familiar and not at the same time. At the same time dog and owner look up at my window.

I know he sees me. A second later my suspicion is confirmed. The man gives a two fingered wave, more like a salute. Then they are gone down the street. I stare out the window the rest of the night until morning but they never reappear. Who was that?

Thursday. Kenny is at school today. He doesn't even look at me as he passes by but I can feel that he's completely aware of my presence. When Cartman says something to him, the blonde snarls like a dog and shoves him against the wall. Shoving Eric Cartman anywhere is no easy feat. Kenny must be pissed off, probably at me.

The two start fighting. By first period they are bloodied and Kenny is goading the fatass on. Cartman is panting and glaring at Kenny but he has no fight left in him at the moment. Wendy and Craig are still at odds with each other. As the day goes on I see more and more fights breaking out. Hardly anyone messes with me.

That is, they don't mess with me until seventh hour. In between classes I'm caught by someone and dragged into a bathroom. The girl's bathroom. Red stands looking at me with a smirk on her face. Her skirt is too high on her thighs. "I heard you give good oral."

Only Kenny could have told Red that. The redhead girl sits back on the counter. She smiles at me as she takes an exacto knife from her purse. "Come here, little Tweekers." When I don't move her expression turns ugly. "Come here or I'll cut you."

As though that has never happened before. Regardless, I don't like pain so I obey. When I'm close she kicks my knees out and I drop onto them. She slips out of her heels and puts her feet on my shoulders. From this angle I can see that she is wearing nothing beneath that short skirt. A hand tangles in my hair and my face is shoved between her open legs.

"Lick me." She orders. I tremble from head to toe. She's touching me. I extend my tongue slowly, praying someone will save me. Before I taste her I, as Craig put it, clock out.

I'm in a candy store. A German Shepard is standing at the register wearing an apron and smiling. Oddly enough the dog doesn't bother me. The sweet scents all around me makes my mouth water. In my hand is an icecream cone. Absently I lick it, looking around at all of the other sweets.

Time goes by as I eat my icecream, which never seems to get any smaller. The German Shepard doesn't say anything, but goes about tidying up the store. It walks on its hind legs like a person. I don't feel anxious at all. That was an odd thought, I tell myself, why would I be anxious? All of a sudden I'm ripped from the candy store.

In front of me is Red's pussy, dripping wet and radiating heat. The icecream flavor from my mouth is gone and all I can taste is her. I don't like it. Red is shaking. When I look over to the door I find out why. In all his kingly glory is Craig, standing looking more than a little angry.

In fact, Craig looks like he's going to murder someone. "C-Craig." Red goes to explain but he's stalking towards her with all the grace of a jungle cat on the hunt. Her legs squeeze around my face and I'm back in the candy store. The German Shepard looks at me and I look back at it. It greets me with a wave, which I hesitantly mimic.

The icecream is back in my hand. I lick it again. Then I'm torn from the candy sop again. Now I find myself back in the bathroom. Red has been pulled off the counter by her hair. She's begging and crying at the king to have mercy on her.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He screams at her. She pleads and begs for her life. Kenny's name appears more than once in her explanation. His fist pulls back then he slams it into her face. Bone crunches.

I'm in the candy store again. My icecream is gone. The dog is giving me a curious look. Skin hitting skin, bone hitting bone, throws me back into the bathroom. He's hit her again. "Tweek is mine! Do you understand?"

Another punch and I'm back in the candy store. I'm offered a candy apple, which I decline. "No one but me is allowed to touch him!" I've never seen Craigifer Tucker so angry. He's really giving it to her. With each punch I'm thrown from one world into the other, only to be tossed back in the original one.

"Only. I. Can. Fuck. Him." Each word is accent with a punch.

As she bleeds out on the floor, she begs forgiveness. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, Craig, I'm sorry!" I think she might be crying. Her salty taste is still in my mouth.

"Not yet, you aren't." Craig snarls. Its right about then that I realize he's out of control. The king is going to execute her. Craig is actually going to kill her. I scramble to my feet and stumble over to them.

I try to pull him off, which I'll admit is kind of stupid since he's stronger than me. Then I try to put my voice to use. "C-Craig." My voice cracks. "Craig!" It seems that he's beyond hearing now.

I try for more words and my voice fails me. Meanwhile, Red is totally unconscious. "Craig! Stop it! You're going to kill her!" If he hasn't already.

"Stop it! Stop it, Craig! Craig you're killing her!" I attach myself to him. He struggles against me. So I decide to do something a little drastic.

I shove my fist in his mouth. Craig tries to bite me. Then he chokes. Too focused on getting my hand out of his mouth, he doesn't hit Red again. He turns to face me. Since his body language is more relaxed I retract my hand.

We stare at each other. "You belong to me." He tells me. Before I can stop him his arms are wrapped around me. "Stay with me, Tweek. Don't clock out."

Craig whispers. But I can feel myself slipping. Halfway between the meadow and reality, the noir lets me go. He wipes my mouth off with his jacket sleeve. "Are you okay?" I shake my head no.

What are we going to do with her? Take her to a hospital? His knuckles are bloody. "This is...not how I was expecting things to happen." I just stare blankly at him. Craig sighs and looks back at Red.

"I suppose I have to take care of her." As he reaches into his pocket, he looks at me again. "Here." Its a pack of mints. Greedily I take them and shove a bunch into my mouth. Anything to get this taste out.

My throat hurts. My jaw and tongue feel overused. "You're coming home with me. But for now go back to class." As I get to my feet I nod my head. Except I don't leave because I'm afraid he's going to kill her while I'm gone.

So I stand there looking at him while he looks down at her. After a while he turns around. "Tweek," Silver eyes meet mine. "Go to class. Its almost over anyways."

That explains why my jaw hurts. Almost a whole hour of licking pussy. Abruptly I turn and throw up all over the floor. Craig gives me a sympathetic look and it occurs to me that he has to do this with Wendy all the time. How can he stomach it? I take more breath mints.

Obedient as always, I go to seventh hour. I must look more pathetic than usual because our teacher doesn't write me up. Ten minutes later the class is over. Craig is waiting in his car. In the back seat is Red, still passed out. She doesn't look so good.

"Don't mention any of this to her." Confused, I nod agreement. We drop her off by Starks Pond. She was probably going to try to rape me, so I don't feel very much when we leave her in the snow. "Someone will find her." Craig says as we drive away.

As we pull into Craig's driveway, I think about what happened in the bathroom. More specifically, what he said. I want to ask him about it but I don't think my voice can take it. This is the most use its gotten since, well since I decided to stop talking. Being bold, I reach into his backpack for a pencil and paper. There is not complaint from him.

_What did you mean by I'm yours?_

I show it to him. Without looking at it, the king says, "Wait till we get inside, Tweek." So the king has spoken, so it shall be. As soon as the door opens a dog greets us. The German Shepherd is all barking and tail wags and slimy tongue.

I tense up. Instinct tells me to hide and I do, behind Craig. This German Shepherd is very familiar. Its the one from the candy shop, except its on all fours and not wearing an apron. Or smiling. Craig, on the other hand, drops to one knee and rubs behind the dog's ears.

"Hey, boy." I'm surprised to see him smiling as he rubs the dog down. "Hey Shoe. How are you doin today?" In response the Shepherd licks Craig's face. His entire body is quivering with excitement.

All I can see is Shoe – what the fuck kind of name is that? - biting through Craig' throat. Its a scary thought. Behind the king I whimper. This catches both of their attentions. Shoe's ears prick forward, his clever brown eyes assessing me. "Don't worry, Tweek, he's friendly."

But I know without a doubt that this is the dog who bit off Kenny's dick. This also happens to be the dog who walked by my house last night. Which means that Craig is the owner of this dog. "Okay, okay, I'll put him out." Craig being friendly – or at least considerate – towards me is strange. I'm not sure if I like it and I definitely don't trust it.

Craig puts Shoe outside. As I'm looking around his house, my feet take me up the stairs. I pass his parents room, the bathroom, an empty room, and then I stop in front of his room. How I know which room is which with all of the doors closed, I don't know. Plus I've never been here before. I reach out to open the door.

The knob is cold against my palm. I almost expect it to be locked but it gives no resistance to me turning it. Without a sound the door slides open. Craig's room is dark and cool. Its a fortress of solitude. Perfect for someone who wants to be left alone.

I enter the room and the dark sheet over the window turns my skin light blue. When I inhale, all I can smell is Craig's scent. Its like no one has been in here but him. An urge to lay on the bed and bury my face in the pillow rises up. Quickly I push it back down. If Craig found me like that I would probably be beaten and accused of being a fag.

Even though I can still taste Red. I hope it will go away soon. Curiosity gets the better of me and I start to go through his drawers. Clothes, random junk, cigarettes, lube and condoms. I peek under his bed. Way in the back is a box, pushed up against the wall.

The only way to get to it is to lay flat on my stomach. So that's what I do. If only it wasn't so small and dark. Before I can hyperventilate, my fingers curl around the edges and I pull it forward. When I get it out into the dim light I see that its got a lock on it. Curiosity burns through me.

In my search I didn't see a key. "What are you doing?" Steel lines his voice and cuts me to the quick. I turn to face him and open my mouth a few times but no sound comes out. He enters his room and closes the door. For a moment he just looks at me, sitting with his locked box in my hands.

"Come here, Tweek." I get up to obey but he's moving past me towards his bed. Now I hesitate. What if he rapes me? As king, no one would punish him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Still I hesitate. "I realize that doesn't mean a lot." When I still don't move, battling indecision, he sighs. "Please come lay with me, Tweek. I promise I won't touch you." So I crawl into bed with him.

We lay a foot apart. Unable to help myself I nuzzle my face into the pillow and sigh. Even though I can barely make out his features, I feel silver eyes on me. I'm tense and calm at the same time. If I was alone I could fall asleep, but having his living presence in this room with me is keeping me on edge. "This is the key to that box."

He holds up a key attached to a chain around his neck. "If you can get it from me, you can open the box." Curiosity alone isn't enough incentive to make me attempt to steal the key from around his neck. "That box holds our past." Now I really want that key. I'm afraid of what I might find.

"Will you go out with me?" With zero hesitation I shake my head no. Craig doesn't respond for a while. "Please, Tweek?" Another shake of my head. Except now I'm starting to feel bad.

Well, I'm starting to feel worse. "Please, Tweek. I'll dump Wendy. We'll go slow. Everyone will leave you alone. Please."

Still, I decline. Craig almost killed someone today for me and he hurt Kenny. While I admit that both of them deserved it – more or less – it was still wrong. Watching him beating Red was scary. His room is scary and his dog is scary and fuck it, he's scary too. "Why?"

"We belong together." He's so bold to say something like that. Does he tell Wendy sweet nothings? I doubt it. I reach over the bed for the notebook and pencil I forgot about. This time he reads what I wrote.

"We were engaged." This is said without emotion.

_When? What happened? Why don't I remember?_

"Tweek, that's in the box. I'm not telling you everything."

_Why not?_

"Because you asked me not to." Craig is confusing me. I don't think I've ever been so confused or frustrated in my life. Instead of denying it, I write,

_I don't remember that!_

He swallows. "I know."

_How do I get that key?_

"Go out with me. Be my boyfriend again." I'm silent. And I'm terrified out of my mind. "Do that and I'll give you the key and the box." He gets a little closer to me.

"I know I've been more than shitty to you, but just give me a chance, Tweek. One chance to make it up to you and I swear you'll have the best time of your life." My entire body tells me he wants to kiss me. My body wants to kiss him too. But my mind is telling me to stay away. I scribble out a sentence.

_I don't believe you. I don't even trust you._

"If you didn't trust me you wouldn't be here." His hand lays between us, closer to me than to him. Is he asking for a truce? Can I do that? Craig has a point when he says that I must be trusting him at least a little if I'm in bed with him. Particularly since I've been raped and forced to give oral sex.

I do and don't want to touch him. In the end I don't. After a while he puts on some music. Its a band I've never heard before. Their songs are strange, tribal, earthy, calm. "Enigma."

Craig replies when I ask. His eyes are half closed. Should I change my mind, his hand remains between us. Hours pass by with no conversation and little movement. When his breathing slows and evens out I know he's asleep. My eyes are glued to his hand.

Its palm up, fingers slightly curled, tan. He has a few cuts and scratches on his long fingers. They look like they could be musicians fingers, except they aren't calloused enough. I swallow my nervousness and reach out. What if he's not asleep? But its too late for that because my hand is in his.

Craig's skin is cool to the touch. I almost expect to clock out but it doesn't happen. My skin only crawls a little. And my fear is down to a minimum. It makes so little sense that I just shove it from my mind as completely as possible. And then...

I CAN'T TRUST HIM! Is screamed in my head. Maybe its my brain screaming it. My brain and my heart combined. I snatch my hand back from his. Then I'm getting up and about to leave when something else crosses my mind.

Why not take the box with me? I'm sure that I could cut it open with something. But when Craig finds out...What? What can he do that hasn't already been done to me at least once? I take the box.

Running hurts, so I speed walk out of his house. Its not a light box. Maybe he has someones head in here. Or he's going to put my head in here once he finds out I've taken it. At the thought of death I feel a small twinge of excitement. This could be my chance to finally die!

When I get home I go straight to the garage. The box I set on the workbench. Before doing anything too drastic, I sit down on the stool and think. I try Craig's birthday as the combination. Then I try mine. I try the date I think is his anniversary with Wendy.

Lastly I try his locker combination. When all of that fails – as I thought it would – I pick up a pair of hedge clippers. They are awkward in my hands, but I fit it around the lock. It takes a few tries to open it and when I do get it open I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm a little winded. The lock falls off. Now I'm free to open the mystery box and find out about my past with Craig.

This is what I wanted. Want. So why am I hesitating? My hand is trembling when I lift the lid off the box and set it aside. Maybe I should do this in my room. Quickly I slam the lid back on, gather up the box in my arms, and go to my room.

I don't even know if my parents are home. It doesn't matter. Just in case I lock the door. Then I set the box back down. I'm pacing in my room indecisively when the phone rings. To give myself a distraction I answer it.

"You stole the box." Oh man Craig doesn't sound happy. His voice turns angrier, "And you left me." Shit! I knew he was going to kill me!

I haven't even looked in it yet! Still holding the phone I go to the box and fling off the lid. The first thing I take out is a photo album. Flipping to a random page the first thing I see is a younger version of me kissing a younger version of Craig. We're both smiling and the picture is taken at an odd angle. I think Craig is holding the camera and trying to kiss me at the same time.

There are other pictures of us. Playing video games at his house. Him standing behind me at my birthday party while I'm blowing out the candles on my cake. Us at Starks Pond where he's whispering something into my ear and I'm blushing like a school girl. There's one where he's face-to-face with his guinea pig. Another where I'm sitting on the ground with a German Shepherd puppy in my lap.

There are a lot of pictures of just me. Me laying flat on the floor studying. Me drinking out of a coffee mug with a big red heart on it. In one I'm wearing his pajamas. One shows me swinging as high as I can on the swings, face lit up with laughter. Another shows me ice skating and holding my arms out for the person behind the camera.

And there's a redhead girl I haven't seen before. She usually has pigtails and a fuck you look on her face even as she's posing in her girl scouts uniform. In one picture we're all three sitting on Craig's couch watching a movie. Apparently she was a devil on Halloween, standing between me and Craig – I was a vampire and he was a black cat. We're eating breakfast together, swimming together, walking to school together. Once she and I are both flipping off the camera man and I look shy as hell.

"Tweek, don't open the fucking box." Its too late for that. There is a pause on the other end. "Tweek?" Another pause. "You opened it didn't you?"

My hands shake as I set the album aside. That wasn't even half of it I went through. But I'm pretty sure I know what it will contain; more pictures of me and Craig and that redhead girl. So I move on. I find the mug I was drinking out of in one of the pictures. On the bottom it says, _To Tweek Love Craig_ in scratchy handwriting.

I pull out notebooks. "Should I get off the phone?" They contain conversations back and forth between me and Craig. Flipping through the pages and reading a line or two tells me that we told each other everything. And we liked to gossip. There's some jewelry as well – two dog tags that read _PROPERTY OF TWEEK_ and _PROPERTY OF CRAIG._ As well as two silver rings that read _CT And TT Forever. _

Upon trying the rings I confirm that they are in fact too small for my fingers now that I've grown. The only one it will fit on is my pinky finger. There are other things; a CD and some tapes. I find a teal ribbon and I don't think it belonged to either of us. A pack of Camel cigarettes kind of surprises me. So does the package of expired coffee beans.

Another solitary paper has a long list of passwords and usernames to multiple websites. "I'm coming over." And then I see them. Three plane tickets. I'm shaking so badly that I can hardly read the words. Peru.

These were for Peru, round trip flights. I find an undeveloped roll of film. Being as careful as I can, I unravel some of it and hold it up to the light. In the negatives I see the three of us in the jungle. Craig never got these developed. That just means that I have to take them to get developed.

Now. Before the king gets here and finds that the prisoner has discovered this. The contents of the box go back into the box. Now to hide it, incase he breaks in. I decide to hide it in the attic above my parent's closet. That's where I discover everything else.

* * *

_Normally I don't do these stupid authors comments on but I figured I should reply to some of my reviews. _

_1. 19 Minutes is a book about an adolescent boy who has zero friends and is bullied or completely ignored by everyone at school. This is where I get that for Tweek (only Tweek isn't going to shoot up the school like Peter did). This is also SOUTH PARK we're talking about, where everyone tends to turn a blind eye to everything that happens no matter how shitty it is. Tweek is a boy who has no memory of sixth grade and younger for reasons I have not yet revealed. All he thinks he knows is abuse and parents who don't seem to know they have a son (this idea was taken from the Shiver/Linger/Forever series). After dealing with this for years, he has an almost apathetic attitude towards it. Like its bound to happen and nothing he can do will change it. Teachers aren't mean to him, per se, they just ignore it. As many teachers in many schools do (saying that fighting is a part of growing up, children will be children, ect). His one friend is the librarian, who doesn't hate him and lets him stay there (with the exception of disturbing her books which wasn't his fault). _

_2. Don't feel bad for Tweek. He's just the school punching bag. See what happens when he isn't supposed to be touched? Fights break out among the other students just like in a normal school. This is what would happen if everyones attention was focused on ONE person instead of different cliques fighting for dominance. **Why can't Tweek just be the dorky kid who has a group of a few people who harass him, but hides it from teachers in shame? **Because that is boring. It happens all the time and is nothing at all even slightly new or interesting. _

_3. I fixed the centered text. Sorry about that guys, I didn't realize it would stay centered after I submitted it. Thats just how I'm writing it (centered). _

_4. I hate to break it to you, but dogs can and do bite off dicks. Its not just Kenny's dick that was injured, its more of him. In fact, Kenny died from the dog attack while in the hospital (which is why he wasn't at school). What people will talk about though, is that his dick was bitten off. Come on, its high school, thats what they do there. _

_5. Nope, nothing really to make the pack members stand out in the pack. Except for Craig. This is in Tweek's point of view. He sees them all as the same, just someone else to hurt him. Another thing about the personalities, which ties in the rape. How is being afraid of being touched not something that happens after a rape? If that doesn't do it for you then I guess you're pretty much SOL. _

_6. Sorry about the song titles. As you can tell, there were none in this chapter. Is that better? Stereo Hearts was chosen for one reason and one reason only, this line: My heart's a stereo, It beats for you, so listen close, Hear my thoughts in every note. Trust me, its symbolic. _

_7. I'm glad those of you who like it, like it. And I'm sorry that those of you who don't like it, don't. To each their own. No offense is taken. I'm going to finish this no matter how many reviews I get, positive or negative. _

_8. I should mention that the start of this story takes place as Craig is starting to crack under his persona of being a badass who doesn't give a damn (especially not about a lost redhead girl or a certain abused blonde)._


	4. My Soul To Take

Its hard to think when what you knew your entire life to be is actually one horrible lie. Its like finding out that the nightmare you keep falling into is actually reality and there is no way out. In the attic above my parent's closet I found bags and bags of stuff. Covered in dust but one bag was ripped and I saw another photo album. Like the one in the box this one was filled with pictures. But I didn't stop to look through it.

I am a man on a mission. The box goes in the attic and I close it back up. After returning the chair to their room, I start for the front door. When I open it, Craig is standing there. His car is in my driveway, which explains how he got here so fast. I back up.

Silver eyes go to the roll of film in my hand. "Don't." I just stare at him as I back away. He is a king, and kings tend to be big on three things. Power, loyalty, and execution. "Tweek, you really don't want to know."

My hand twitches with the urge to make some wild gesture asking how the hell he knows what I want. Craig doesn't know anything about me. Kings never step off their thrones to get to know their servants. Though I believe I'm lower than a servant in his eyes, so perhaps prisoner is a better word. His eyes tell me he's angry. They are colder than glaciers, harder than steel.

I pick up a sharpie out of the tin can of pens and pencils sitting on our side table in the living room. Disregarding anything my parents may say to me, I write on the wall. If worst comes to worst I'll get a can of black spray paint and draw over it. Mom will probably call it shock art and be proud that I've inherited something good from her.

_What the fuck do you know about me? Obviously I'm not that Tweek anymore._

"You're still mine."

_You don't even know me anymore! We're strangers! Just a bully and his victim._

"So you didn't feel anything when you looked at our stuff?" Lie. So I do.

_No._

I felt a lot. Confusion, mostly. Like how can I not remember any of that. My photographic memory is my defining trait. As well as my silence. But neither of those seem to play any part in me and Craig and the redhead girl.

"Nothing at all?" I shake my head.

_Who is the girl?_

His voice is heartbroken when he says, "She...she was my sister." Craig doesn't have a sister. "I know you don't remember her. No one but me does." A chill goes down my spine.

_Why?_

"Its not important." Bullshit. But fine. I'm sure that it will become clear once I get these pictures developed. Just one more question before I get the hell out of here.

_Why does everyone hate me?_

"They don't hate you. They just need to vent their frustrations and you're the easiest target." Easy target, eh? That explains nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Frustration causes me to throw the sharpie at Craig.

Then I speed to the backdoor. He peruses me. I'm already out the back gate when he stops and yells, "Fine! Do whatever you want Tweek! But once you have your memory back you're keeping it!"

"You have to live with it!" Craigifer Tucker underestimates me. With the fear of being chased gone, I slow to a walk. Not that my fear is really gone, I worry about what I'll learn. Or worse, what will happen if I don't discover anything. What could be so awful that I don't want my memory?

In my mind I pause all trains of thought simply for that one. I roll it around in my brain. What could be so awful that I don't want my memory? The key words there jump out at me. As I walk to the drug store to get the film developed it starts to snow. Snow generally makes South Park look lively.

Now it makes it look unfriendly. Or maybe that's just my mood reflecting in the unique little snowflakes that cling to the Earth. Once I went to the big city during winter break. It was like walking into a frozen wasteland Hell. Angry demons everywhere and tall cold towers scraping the sky with their steel and glass. Everything looked the same; cold and bleak.

Though we have no towering skyscrapers in South Park, it still looks cold and gray and unfriendly. The pines reach out at me with their bristled branches. I shiver as I pull my flannel shirt tighter to my skinny frame. It takes a while to get to town and only a few minutes to locate the shop I want. As I walk in my heart pounds with anticipation.

Usually I try to avoid these places. You know, places where people might show up. But upon entering I find that I'm the only customer in the store. The scent of paint hits my nose and makes me sneeze. "Hello?" I recognize Kyle Broflovski's voice.

I don't say anything. A few minutes later he comes scrambling out of the stock room, tripping over boxes. His hands are stained red and my mind says _blood. _"Oh. Hey Tweek." I can't really stop staring at him because he looks so different than normal.

Dressed in a pair of blue overalls – no shirt beneath them – and a dark blue sweater tied around his waist is odd enough. Add the black headband keeping his crimson curls at bay, the thick square black framed glasses, and and the outrageous star-pattern headphones and Kyle is something to look at. He almost looks friendly. "Uh, the shops not really open right now. I'm repainting it." the redhead explains with a grimace.

Despite the face I think he likes painting. I hold up the tube with the roll of film. Kyle sighs. "Okay, okay. Just because it won't take long." He disappears into the backroom again and when he comes out his hands are significantly less red. I hand over the precious film a little hesitantly.

Kyle is one of the ones who isn't actively mean to me. There are a few like that, people who more or less ignore me. That's okay with me. He sets about getting it developed immediately. "I don't mean to be rude but I have a question." I look at him mutely, waiting for him to continue.

"Everyone is an asshole to you at school and I know that they are outside of school too. You don't have any friends and from what I gather your parents aren't really in the picture either." I wonder where he's going with this. Kyle looks me in the eye. Florescent lights capture the sparkle in his emerald eyes. "So why are you still alive?"

That's a question I've been asking myself all the time. I shrug. "Something must be keeping you going." Kyle says it more to himself than to me. The reason for my being alive has never made itself known to me. I watch him work for an hour.

When the film is developed he gives it to me. His expression is curious. "I never knew you and Craig used to be friends." I blink. "Does he have a cousin or something?" Accepting the envelope of pictures I start going through them.

Almost instantly I know that none of us is in America. There isn't jungle like that in North America. This must be the Peru trip I don't remember. My heart jackhammers in my chest. Kyle gives me a look and then disappears into the back room. I hardly notice.

There are pictures of the three of us at the airport, standing together and smiling for the camera. I look nervous but excited too. Then we're on the plane, playing a game of cards while the redhead girl chatters. I can't make sense of a few of the blurrier photos. Its only the next few that let me know what happened. We were in a plane crash.

My throat constricts. Craig is the one snapping pictures of the burning wreck, of the dead people. He snaps pictures of me and the girl. Her head is bleeding, blood running down between her eyes, but she's still smiling for the camera. My shirt is bloodstained and torn. Something is sticking out of my chest and I have an expression of utter terror on my face.

Then there's one picture of Craig, face bruised and tears streaming down his swollen cheeks. One trail of tears is actually blood; his eye is bleeding. The photos fall from my hands onto the floor. My entire body is trembling and I sink to my knees before my legs give out. I'm crying. Oh god, oh god.

A voice in the back of my mind tells me that it could just be photomanipulation. But they can't manipulate the negatives. So its real. Its all fucking real and I don't remember one fucking second of it. Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I start to pick up the photos I dropped. I have to know what happened.

Then we're in the jungle, walking, looking tired, bloodstained. We come to an abandoned village with a dozen or so dogs searching for scraps. They are skinny and quick to bare their fangs. A chill goes down my spine. A few blurred photos follow that – probably us running. All of a sudden there is a picture of the dogs lined up, agitated about something but not chasing us.

The camera turns to our wounds. Bite marks on my ankles. The girl's arms and calves are bleeding. Craig is covered in them from head to toe, loosing a lot of blood. None of us are smiling. I can't help but wonder why Craig didn't put down the damn camera, why he kept taking pictures.

Nighttime. Whatever Craig was trying to show, I can't see it. Morning comes and there are only the two of us; the girl is gone. Then we've come across people, hiding in the bushes by their village. Their feet are oddly misshapen and their skin is dark. His sister is with them, tied up and looking horrified.

Her rust colored hair is matted with blood, mud, and leaves. The strangers are looking at her. I throw the next picture and turn to throw up. Nothing but a bit of stomach acid comes up. After wiping my mouth I reach a shaking hand for the picture of a man violating Craig's sister. Thankfully that is the only picture of the rape.

It brings back memories. I feel sore. My mouth tastes funny. The next picture is almost worse than the rape. In some ways it is. The villagers are tearing the young girl apart.

Shes still alive as they eat her in the next picture. Then we're in a different part of the jungle, a man-made clearing. Surrounded by stumps of what was once a great forest. There are pictures of Craig screaming and crying and kicking the stumps. There are pictures of me sobbing. In the dirt Craig captures me writing _iI want to forget./i_

Only one photograph shows Craig's eyes glowing iridescent blue. The next ones are of me looking confused and crying, screaming at Craig for something. In between is one of Craig looking hurt and confused. The last few pictures are of us being rescued by the workers who cut down the trees. And there is one of my parents hugging me - looking confused and angry and relieved - glaring over my shoulder at Craig. Carefully I put all of the pictures back into their envelope.

Numb. That's how I feel. But its not the same kind of numb that I felt previous to all of this craziness. This is hard to describe. Maybe I'm in shock. Without saying anything to Kyle I leave the store.

That didn't explain a lot. Just that there was a tragedy and I forgot about it. Just that I'm missing my entire childhood. I don't know where to go. My feet take me to the park. I find a swing and sit, not swinging.

Three hours of sitting on a cold swing with not a thought in my head. Snow drives me home. My parents are home. Yelling at Craig about something. When I walk into the living room, everything goes quiet. I look at them and try to feel something.

Nothing. Slowly I shuffle up to my room. I hear footsteps following me, then shouting, and more footsteps. Craig appears in my doorway. "Tweek?" He's cautious like I'm going to do something crazy.

At the moment I don't think I have the energy to be crazy. I walk over to the chalkboard but can't bring myself to pick up a piece of chalk. Instead I end up slumped on the floor. "I told you you didn't want to know!" The noir hisses at me. His eyes betray his concern.

Silence. He joins me on the floor, sitting as close as he dares. "Do you remember?" I shake my head. Remembering isn't important anymore. I watched a girl be raped and eaten alive.

That is, after the plane crash and being attacked by wild dogs. Then her entire existence was forgotten by everyone but her older brother. "We were in love." I put a hand to my heart, feeling the scar through my t-shirt. I always thought that it was me who had made it so bad when I stabbed myself with a bread knife in an attempt to commit suicide. In truth, it was a piece of pipe or something that had impaled me in a plane crash.

"We were in love." The king repeats. "My little sister Ruby always wanted to play with us. One day I won tickets to go to Peru, for all three of us." I can hear him swallow. "I bought a camera just for taking pictures there."

"Things were fine until we got over Peru. I don't know what happened, no one ever figured out why both engines stopped. One hundred people died in the crash, the three of us were the only survivors. I thought you were going to die." A deep sigh. "Shit just kept happening."

"We got lost in the jungle and came across the dogs. Most of their owners had been killed by a neighboring tribe. The ones who weren't were killed by the dogs for food. By the time we got there, they were starved. They caught up to us a few times and we had to fight them off with sticks. Then they stopped at a scent border so we hiked some more and took shelter in a tree."

"While we were sleeping, some tribesmen took Ruby. When we found her...they..." Even without looking at him I know Craig is crying. The king is breaking down. "They raped her and then they started eating her." We ran away without trying to help her, but Craig doesn't mention that.

"You wanted to forget about the entire trip. You were so upset that you didn't even talk. And I," Stormy eyes stare at his hands. "And I wiped your memory. It was the first time I had ever done that, and I didn't know what I was doing."

He what? Wiped my memory? That's impossible! My brow furrows. "I erased both my sister and I from your memory. You forgot...everything."

"Afterwards, you didn't even know who I was. You screamed at me and nearly had a panic attack, but the lumberjacks found us." We aren't touching but I can feel him shaking. "We were taken home and your parents have hated me ever since. They wouldn't let me near you." Why does he sound so sad?

"Y-you erased Ruby." Her name is strange on my tongue. Without much warning, Craig breaks down. He's sobbing all out, more vulnerable than I have ever seen him. I'm starting to get over the numbness. Those kingly tears put it into perspective; all of that really happened.

Tears stream down my cheeks. Together we cry alone. When I'm more worn out than I have been in a long time, my tears finally stop. Craig still sits beside me; knees drawn to his chest, arms hiding his face. He trembles but he's not crying anymore. "How d-did this – ack – happen?"

Silver eyes look at me in question. "The bullying." I clarify. Suddenly the noir looks quite uncomfortable. My heart squeezes painfully. Something tells me I don't want to know.

"I was mad at you." Something crazy slips into the king's voice. "I was so mad that you got to forget and I didn't. I was mad that you forgot me and our love. It didn't help that you were completely different and your parents wouldn't let me try to get to know you again. Or that my sister is gone forever and I'm the only person in existence who remembers her."

Well, that accounts for him. Not everyone else though. I bet once I had friends. "What about everyone else?" I'm out of breath and I don't like it. One day I'll have to start talking again.

Guilt crosses his face. "I erased you from everyone's memories." What? My jaw hangs open. "The only one who remembers," Pause, "Everything, is Kenny."

I take a deep shuddering breath. My world has been shredded like paper in a paper shredder. "I'm sorry Tweek. I. This is my fault." A king should never apologize to his prisoner.

"Will you forgive me?" Before I can smack him upside the head he quickly revises that, "I don't mean right now, but maybe in the future?" The thought is so foreign and unwanted that I make a disgusted face. Of course Craig sees it, and his expression falls. "I want things to be good between us."

He mumbles into his arm. I've never thought of Craigifer Tucker as having feelings. Seeing this other side of him, learning about our shared history; its a lot at one time. Red crosses my mind, and what he did to her. Craig is a selfish king, he won't let anyone have me. As long as Craig is alive, I will never be free.

Just as quietly as he did, I mutter, "I don't want t-to see you – ah - ever again." After what he's done to me, I don't even want to hear his voice. I don't want to know his name. If I could forget Craig Tucker and somehow have him stay out of my life, I would. How could he say he wants things to get better when its his fault they are so bad?

I stand up, wait for the head rush to pass, and start writing on my board. The chalk is white, crisp and clean against the black. Then I begin to write.

_I want Craig to leave. I want to forget about all of this. I want to have friends. I want parents who care about me. I want to get out of this shitty town. I want to fall in love. I want Craig out of my life._

As he reads it, Craig's face is changing emotions rapidly. From hopeful to despairing to angry. Rising, the king towers over me like I'm merely a pawn on the chessboard. Make your move, king. "Fine. I'll leave."

"But you have to live with this the rest of your life," I think he's going to say my name but then he snaps his jaws closed and storms out. I'm expecting a sigh of relief but my throat feels constricted and my heart hurts. All night I hog the phone, waiting for it to ring. When it finally does I almost ask the caller what took so long. This song I don't recognize.

Its the pretty voice of a girl. She sounds sad and something else too. Judging by how many times she says sweet dreams, I assume that's the name of the song. The song sets me at unease. Whats all this about abuse? This isn't a love song.

I put the phone on the other end of my room so I won't have to hear the music pouring out of it. Hanging up is something I can't bring myself to do. My mind is tormented by the images from Peru. If I were to fall asleep, I'm sure I'd dream of it and that's something I just can't handle right now. Mom comes into my room to check on me around midnight. She glances at my board then comes to sit on the edge of my bed.

Sometimes she can act like a real mom, and I'm hoping to get some advice. "Tweek, honey,are you okay?" I don't reply. "Well, obviously you aren't. Your father and I don't know why you and Craig split up, but ever since you did,you've been different sweetie. Its like your a zombie."

Zombie is a good word if you don't know whats going on inside of me. "I'm not going to pretend that Peru didn't happen or that you haven't had a hard time since then, but I think maybe you should give Craig another chance." My jaw drops. She doesn't even know what she's saying! "I hate to say this, I really do after all he's done to you, but that boy really loves you Tweek." I can't believe that she is saying any of this to me.

Especially after not getting involved in my affairs for years! How dare she! "Whatever you decide to do, Tweek, know that your father and I will support you." Angry doesn't begin to describe what I feel right now. She thinks its okay to just come acting like a good parent and spewing this bullshit? Well its not!

My mother and father have made it clear that they don't give a damn. I don't want to hear this! Thankfully after that she leaves, a small smile on her lips. My eyes find the chalkboard, where it says that I want parents who care about me. And I realize that I'm a complete fool. Mom was just trying to help.

I fucking asked for this and then I get mad about it! Stupid! As I sit in a tight little ball I consider this train of thought. According to Craig – and the pictures – I got mad right after Craig did what I asked. I asked to forget and he made me forget. Could it be that all of this is actually my fault?

Maybe not all of it, but I didn't even give the noirette a chance. First thing I did was scream at him and shut him out. Craig may be king, but he's a lonely king and that is partly my fault. As much as I hate it maybe mom's right. Perhaps the king needs a second chance. But I probably blew it.

But he's supposed to love me. Love comes with forgiveness, doesn't it? Oh god I hope so. My joints crack when I stand up to retrieve the phone. Sweet Dreams is still playing. "Craig?"

I ask hesitantly into the receiver. "I'm s-sorry." That's all the talking I'm going to do tonight. Tensely I wait for a reply that never comes. For all I know, someone just puts the phone by a speaker and lets the music play into it. So I go back to bed and listen to the song play for the rest of the night.

Friday at school. No one touches me or makes verbal jabs at me. Kyle even waves. I don't even know how to handle that. So I just give a sort of grimace and hope it passes as a smile. The king refuses to acknowledge me.

His queen glares at me every time she sees me. I don't think she knows about us, but she suspects it has something to do with me. In the hallways I hear about how Red got mugged by someone from North Park. There are cries for justice. The only time I spot Craig is at lunch, sitting down in a chair looking like god, listening to his creations gossip. "Hey Tweek do you want to sit with us?"

Did someone just say my name? I turn around and see a small blonde boy. He looks proper, done up in old fashioned clothing with his straight hair cut perfectly. "You don't mind, do you Leopold?" He addresses another blonde boy who looks like a girl. Butters shakes his head and sucks on the candy necklace around his neck.

"Yeah, come eat with us Tweek." He says around his mouthful of candy. After a final glance at Craig I nod agreement. Years of abuse have made me wary, but maybe things are looking up. Mom tried to talk to me last night, I apologized to Craig. At least I hope it was Craig.

I'm sure it was Craig. We go to the art room, much to my surprise. Pip produces a key and Butters winks at me. Are they delinquents or something? Its never crossed my mind that maybe they get into illegal things like most of the other kids at this school. They sit at a table that I assume is their usual spot since it seems to be a robotic movement.

While they chatter to each other I sit staring at both of them. There has to be some kind of trick here. Butters and Pip have never been mean to me, but they aren't social with me. "We saw you staring at Craig." Butters says with a sly smile. A frown tugs my lips downwards.

"Oh don't worry, Tweek, we both have people out of reach that we shouldn't love and do regardless." What are they talking about? My face must express that clearly because they are both grinning. "I for one think that Damien is positively smashing." How is it I'm the freak that gets beat up? Smashing?

"And I like Eric." Butters blushes a lovely shade of pink. Damien has killed Pip on several occasions. Eric treats Butters like a slave. Both of these boys should hate their tormentors but somewhere along the way they fell in love. I don't understand.

"Look Tweek, we're sorry for not paying much attention to you. Before, being associated with you, was, well, dangerous." Butters tells me, wincing at every other word. It looks like there is something wrong with his face. "Its not anything you've done, but for some reason no one liked you and they didn't like people hanging out with you. Actually, Craig gave everyone orders to leave you alone."

All the kings horses and all the kings men, left humpty to rot all alone again. Fury consumes me. That asshole! What the fuck is his problem? It occurs to me that the king might be more of a selfish brat than I originally thought. I stand up, knocking over the chair I move so quickly.

"Tweek?" Pip asks, concern in his voice. Ignoring him, I go to the door and throw it open. I storm to where I last saw Craig. He's still sitting there looking like a smug fucking god. I snarl at him and hurl some kid's lunch at him.

It barely misses him. "What the fuck is your fucking problem?" I yell at him. "You ruin my entire fucking life and you expect me to fucking date you? Who the hell do you think you are?" My voice cracks more than once, reaching shrill tones and breaking then too.

I thought I wasn't going to talk anymore. These past few days I've done more of it than I have in years. Fucking years and its all because of Craigifer fucking Tucker. "Why don't you do everyone a favor and fucking die! You haven't contributed anything whatsoever and because of you Ruby is dead and I've been raped twice and my life is fucking hell!" I'm on a roll.

"Your a waste of space and a sad excuse for a living being! You don't deserve to have parents who love you and an entire school who worships the ground you walk on! You don't deserve to feel loved!" I pause for breath. Its dead silent. "Go to hell you fucking bastard."

I snarl before storming off. Not a sound follows me. Then, "Tweek." Craig. Commanding.

Without looking back I retort, "I am not one of your pawns on the fucking chessboard, Craigifer Tucker! Leave me the fuck alone!" For the rest of the day I hide in a janitor's closet. No one comes looking for me and no one accidentally finds me. My heart hurts worse than my vocal chords.


	5. God Bless My Blood

I know Craig is following me home. I've seen his red beauty from the corner of my eye a few times, when I go around corners. There isn't a point to trying to get him off my tail when I know that he knows where I live. So I go straight home and let him follow me. It quickly becomes apparent that mom and dad aren't home at the moment. Who knows when they will be back.

I don't bother locking the door to my house since I'm fairly certain Craig has a key. What king doesn't have a key to his own kingdom? He follows me up the stairs to my room. "Let me tell you something, Tweek." he says slowly. "I have a lot of control over this memory erasing thing now and I won't mess up this time."

Warily I stare at him. What is he getting at? Going to erase my memory again? When his eyes start glowing blue my own eyes widen. Oh no. NO!

"I made your life hell? Well, how about you forget about that, eh Tweekers?" His eyes blind me. Its so blue and so beautiful. I try to hang onto my memories because these are the only ones I have left. But Craig takes them.

"Tweek?" I open my eyes and see a handsome noirette standing in front of me. His silver-blue eyes are concerned. "Are you okay?" he asks me. His voice is nice, its like listening to a favorite song.

"Um, y-you're," My voice breaks. I clear my throat and try again. "You're Craig Tucker, aren't you?" I couldn't tell you how I know that. Its just something I _know_.

Silver-blue eyes look me over, study me like a specimen under a microscope. Then a smile breaks out across his face; more of a smirk really, but charming as can be. Craig could charm the pants right off of me if he wanted to. The thought has heat rising to my cheeks. "Yeah. And you're Tweek Tweak."

"What are y-you doing here?" I ask, wringing my hands together. Maybe he's here to kill me. Instinct tells me otherwise. "I mean, I hardly know you." My eyes seem to want to look everywhere but actually at the tall teen across from me.

"Your parents let me in." He explains. "I'm picking you up for Butters birthday party." Butters. An image of a long-haired blonde boy eating a candy necklace comes to mind. I don't remember being invited to a birthday party.

"Don't you remember?" He laughs, a lighthearted sound. "So, do you have anything sexy to wear?" Wearing something sexy to a birthday party seems kind of weird. But I think up to my closet where I have long-sleeved and flannel shirts, torn and coffee-stained. Quickly I shake my head.

"Why don't you take a shower and I'll pick something up for you?" Before I can protest, a tan hand is held up for silence. I notice that there are scars on his fingers. "Don't worry about it, Tweekers. I want to do something for you." My mind is blown completely.

All I can do now is nod. With that he smiles again and leaves. Wow; those jeans are tight. With nothing left to do, I go back upstairs to shower. Undressed in front of the mirror I take in my appearance. That's when I see the ugly scar on my chest.

_Oh what happened? My chest hurts. Looking down I see that there is something long and silver sticking out of it. Blood is flowing slowly around the foreign object, staining my t-shirt. "C-Craig?! Craig!" _

_Looking around wildly for my fiance. Where is he?! Did he survive the plane crash? Breathing hurts. I see him standing a few feet away, snapping a picture of Ruby. Upon hearing me, Craig turns to face me._

_His eyes widen. One is leaking blood down the side of his face. "Tweek!" A click of the camera and I've been captured too. I start crying – or cry more, I'm not sure – as Craig kneels down in front of me. His hands hover above the object impaling me. _

"_Craig." I cry. "Help me." The noirette talks to me. He tells me everything will be okay, that he loves me, that someone will find us. Craig especially keeps telling me he loves me._

In the mirror my mouth is hanging open. Automatically a hand comes up to rip out the pipe from my chest but there is nothing there. I'm not bleeding. I'm not hurt. My entire body trembles. I want Craig.

But he isn't here. And he's a stranger. So I forget my scar and the mirror and get in the shower. Its a cold shower. Goosebumps rise across my skin. I close my eyes.

_Rain pours down by the bucketful, drenching me thoroughly. I'm so cold that I can hardly see straight. Craig tells us to climb a tree. Lightning crosses my mind once then is gone. Ruby and Craig help me get up into the tree, being careful of the pipe sticking out of my chest. Movement, climbing especially, hurts. _

_The three of us get comfortable on a large branch. Ruby falls asleep immediately, but Craig and I can't. Not yet. "Craig!" I yell over the howling wind and pouring rain. "I love you!" _

_I feel like we are going to die. Why did this have to happen to us? Its just not fair. Craig and I were going to get married. Ruby is just a little girl. We're too young to die. _

_I can hardly make out the noirette's face, but I feel his eyes on me. "I love you too Tweek!" Him saying I love you is practically confirmation that we're not going to survive the night. "Don't worry Tweekers, everything will work out in the end. You'll see." Then he kisses the top of my head._

With a gasp I open my eyes. What is this? Blinking, I realize that I'm crying. Quickly I shut off the water and get out of the shower. As I run a hand through my wet hair – its more like peach fuzz, when did I cut it? - I notice I'm shaking again. Shaking horribly.

Maybe Craig is back. Wrapping a towel around my waist I go downstairs to check. Sure enough, he's sitting on my couch, shopping bags at his feet. He allows me to get close and take the bags without touching me. My body burns with desire. I want to scream at Craig to touch me.

Looking into his silver-blue eyes I see that he looks hungry. Bags in hand, I shuffle to the stairs. Craig hasn't moved. But those dark, hungry eyes are fixated on me. I feel like a steak being dangled in front of a starving dog. A part of me is afraid, the other part is begging for it.

_Shuffling up ahead. We've been walking for hours with no sign of civilization. A dog barks. Hope that there are people ahead drives us on. The village is quiet. The three of us stand on the edge of it with wide eyes and fading hope._

_As we look on, two dogs tear at a baby carcass. They snap the brittle bones with their powerful jaws. I count a half a dozen or so. They are skin and bones, obviously hungry and rubbing each others fur the wrong way. Ruby whines and every head snaps up to look in our direction. Their black eyes are hungry; hungry for us._

Somehow I've entered my room. I'm standing in the center, facing the window and staring with wide eyes. Fear spikes my blood. Why am I seeing these things? They are almost like memories. But that's impossible!

I've never been wherever that was. "Do you need help?" I jump at the sound of his voice. Turning, I see him standing in the doorway. "Tweek, do you need help?" Craig repeats when I don't say anything.

"Uh." My towel is sliding and I quickly hold it in place. The bags have been dropped between the two of us. With a sigh Craig enters my room and picks up the bags. He takes out a shirt, dark pink and black striped. The tags are easily ripped off and then the soft material is sliding over my head.

It falls to about my abdomen. Looking down, I flush with embarrassment. I'm too skinny to look good in this. Too skinny to look good naked, actually. "Hey, whats wrong?" Craig's voice is soft, soothing.

I just shake my head because these aren't observations and fears that you share with someone so beautiful. Letting it go for now, Craig takes out the next item; a white t-shirt. This goes over my head as well, and thankfully covers my exposed organs. Its a size or two too big for me; white with a black smiley face. The smiley face has X's for eyes and is sticking out its tongue. I like it.

Slender fingers linger on my hips, just above the towel line. We lock eyes. I can't help but swallow nervously. Is he coming onto me? I've never had a boyfriend before. For that matter I've never had a girlfriend either.

"Do you need help with the shorts?" Why is he whispering? Storm cloud eyes tell me he's afraid of the answer. His nails lightly tap my boney hips, urging me to answer. I should say no. I can get dressed by myself.

_"Tweekers!" I look over and there is Craig, grabbing my wrists. With a shriek I'm spun around. Craig presses against me, feeling warm in the cold winter. "Tweek," That's his serious voice, always much quieter than his regular one. "Will you marry me?" _

_I think my heart has stopped beating. From the corner of my eye I can see his breath, a small white cloud. Craig just asked me to marry him! In his arms I turn around and kiss him on the lips. "Nnngh, yes!" His entire face lights up._

"Nngh! Yes!" Something in his expression changes. I study him a moment before determining him to look surprised. Then he nods and releases me to pull out the shorts. They really are short.

Craig kneels in front of me and something within me tells me its wrong to have him kneel. Craig shouldn't kneel. Slowly he assists my towel in sliding down my legs to pool around my feet. I'm naked in front of Craig. Well, naked from the waist down. Gently he picks up one of my feet.

I put a hand on his dark hair to keep myself up. The ebony locks are quite soft. One at a time he puts my feet into the proper holes and then slides the shorts up, up, up. I think I'm going to faint from the sexual tension in the air. Or is that just my sexual frustrations? Craig does up the zipper and buttons the button.

He looks up at me and I feel like I should kiss him. Instead the noirette stands up and offers a hand. "Shall we go?" I barely remember to put shoes on before accepting the hand. Craig takes me to his car, a gorgeous red beauty, and we drive to the party. We're halfway there when I realize something.

"Oh my god, I-I – gah! - didn't get him anything!" These strange noises coming from my mouth at random intervals are irritating. I vaguely recall making the same sounds when I was in elementary school when I used to freak out all the time. Funny how things have changed so much and in some ways not at all. Craig is looking at me strangely, but doesn't say anything. "What does he like?"

The question is directed more to myself than to the noir sitting beside me. "We'll stop by the toy store." A few minutes later, we're searching the isles for something Butters will like. He's childish and feminine but he has a very caring demeanor and can be serious when the situation requires. I can't find anything that isn't too childish or stupid. About to tell Craig that we should find another toy store, something catches my eye.

Its a white and black bunny stuffed animal with long floppy ears and a sad yet happy expression. The bunny isn't overly big and it doesn't do anything aside from sit there, but I'm drawn to it. When I pick it up I snuggle it to my chest and am glad that its a cuddly creature. Craig appears from around the corner and smiles when he sees me. His eyes are sad like the bunny's. I want to make him smile.

_"Hey, close your eyes." _

"_W-why?" But I'm curious so I do it. A rush of air blows over me. My fingers twist the promise ring around and around. I hear rustling and then a pause. Suddenly I feel his presence right next to me. _

"_Open your eyes." Craig whispers in my ear. I giggle at his breath tickling my neck then obey. Over our fort made of chairs and couch cushions is a white sheet. Rainbow animals dance across the top in a brilliant display of light. My jaw hangs open as my eyes dart around to see all there is to see. _

_Craig lays me down then lays beside me. "What do you think?" This view is even better. I don't think of how he made it happen. This is just part of Craig's magic._

"_Its amazing!" I say, truly meaning it. I want to see his smile so I turn my face towards his. Craig leans over and kisses my lips. It makes me giddy when he does that. Then he tells me something that he would never say to anyone else. _

"_I love it when you're happy." I can't keep the smile off my face. Craig makes me all fluttery on the inside like a bunch of butterflies are caught in my chest cavity. We both turn our eyes back to the ceiling. Our hands find each other and we link fingers. A bunny is hopping along in an endless circle and my eyes watch it._

The memory – which is what I've just decided to call them – is a peaceful one. It takes place in my own living room. So there was more than the nightmare jungle. Blinking, I clear my head. Craig is watching me, his brow furrowed. Did he say something?

Does he know about these flashes of memory? _iKeep it a secret from him/i_ a voice in my head tells me. So I hold up the stuffed rabbit and smile. "That one?" he asks me. I nod.

We go to Butters party. Only a few people are there. My eyes find faces while my brain comes up with names. Cartman, Stan, Kyle, Pip, Damien, Wendy, Bebe, Christophe, and Kenny. Kenny gives me a chill that I don't understand. He's never done anything to harm me.

I get a distinct feeling that we weren't invited by the confused expression on Butters face. "Tweek wanted to come." Craig explains our presence. So we weren't. My face turns pink at being a party crasher. Butters seems nervous and excited at the same time as he shows me where to put the present I got him.

"I-I'm really glad you could come, Tweek." The blonde boy tells me. He's the same height as me – short – with a slender almost feminine build. With his long sunshine blonde hair and cute pastel colored clothes,Butters looks a lot like a girl. Not that there is anything wrong with that. "So I guess you and Craig are finally together?"

I stare at him blankly. Instead of a memory like the ones I've been seeing, this is just voices in my head.

_"Oh don't worry, Tweek, we both have people out of reach that we shouldn't love and do regardless. I for one think that Damien is positively smashing."_

"_And I like Eric."_

Pip and Butters like Damien and Cartman. "W-why do you say that I shouldn't love Craig?" The question just slipped out unintentionally. Butters opens his mouth to say something but Cartman cuts him off by ordering him to get his ass in the living room. The blonde boy scampers away, shyly getting close to the big teenager. Wary and eager is how I would describe Butters.

They disappear into the living room. I hang back for a moment to think. From the corner of my eye I think I see a flash of blue but when I look its gone. I must be seeing things. When I go back out everyone is partying. Automatically my eyes search for Craig.

He's standing talking to Damien. They seem to be having a serious conversation. Instinct warns me to wait for Craig to find me instead of interrupt them. "Butters lets put something good on!" Kenny is arguing with the feminine blonde, hanging all over him. Cartman is on Kenny's side but he is glaring daggers at the touchy-feely blonde.

"B-but my parents -" Cartman cuts him off by pointing out that they aren't here. With that the heavy-weight teenager plugs his iPod into the speakers. Something strange comes on. I think its a remix of something or something. Venturing closer, I read the title.

Sick Bubblegum by Skrillex. Not bad, I decide. My skin crawls being this close to Kenny. He meets my eye and I swear that he looks positively evil. Quickly I go into the kitchen to get some water. There's a strange taste in my mouth that I don't like.

"Hey Tweek." I nearly jump out of my skin. Kenny snuck up on me like an ally cat. "Didja miss me?" He purrs with a Southern twang to his voice. My heart feels like its going to explode.

His expression goes from playful to angry in a split second. "You know, I was eaten by a dog because of you." What is he talking about? Twisted laughter echos around the empty kitchen. "Oh, that's right, you wouldn't remember that would you?" Remember what?

Kenny takes a step closer. I back up, hit the counter. With shaking hands I set the glass down before I break it. "I'm no dog, but I think I can do well enough on my own." When he smiles I see that his teeth have been sharpened into razor sharp fangs. He wants to kill me!

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I'm crying because I can see that he's serious about killing me. Suddenly I'm aware of how exposed my throat is. My mind tells me that I survived wild dogs in Peru, I can survive this deranged teenager. I tell my mind that that wasn't real. Just a strange memory.

Kenny's hands are on me. One tugs down my shorts, the other yanks up my shirts. Emotion keeps me from screaming, as it is the squeak I let out is barely audible. Blood drips down Kenny's chin when he bites his lip as he's eyeballing me. Fight! I'm paralyzed with fear.

My eyes widen as Kenny shoves down his pants. When he presses against me I think I'm going to throw up. My stomach clenches, I stop breathing, trying to melt into the counter behind me. Being Butters counter wouldn't be so bad, would it? "I've gotten a bit vindictive in my old age. I guess that's what happens when you keep dying."

Still don't have a clue what he's talking about but I see movement over his shoulder. Kenny sinks his fangs into my neck and I open my mouth in a silent scream. My body jerks as pain rockets around. He misinterprets it and grinds flesh-to-flesh against me. Or maybe he knows the truth. I feel pressure against my neck, worse than before, and then sweet release.

When the blonde lets me go I gasp for breath. My hands go to my neck and come back sticky with crimson. Kenny is on his knees, trying to keep himself from being hung by his shirt. Christophe stands there, irritated expression on his scarred face, holding Kenny by the collar of his shirt. Like a dog, the blonde growls. It nearly takes me back to the village.

"Zake eet like a man, beetch." Then Christophe kicks him in the ribs. I hear Kenny's ribs break. "You aren't ze only one who 'as been eaten by dogs." Christophe's face darkens. "But zat was your own fault."

I'm still in shock from all this. Standing exposed with tears running down my face. Movement makes me drag my eyes from Kenny to the entrance to the kitchen. Craig. He looks calm but his eyes shine with a wrath I don't comprehend. In three strides he's crossed the room and has relieved Christophe of Kenny.

"I guess killing you once wasn't enough." Kenny looks genuinely afraid. "This time, I'll make sure you don't die." The noirette snarls quietly. With a look of disgust, Craig tosses Kenny back to Christophe. "Make sure Damien gets him."

The brunette nods and drags Kenny out the back door. To say I'm confused at this exchange would be an understatement. My noirette turns to me and his expression softens. The Hellfire dies from his eyes. "You okay, Tweekers?" Slowly I shake my head no.

He approaches me with caution. My eyes sting and I realize I haven't blinked. When I do more tears come. Craig fixes my clothes before hugging me lightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't think he'd go after you again." Something Kenny said echos in my head.

"Why wouldn't I remember?" I ask quietly. This is a birthday party, we should be having fun. The noir looks at me, waiting for me to explain. "Kenny said that I wouldn't – nngh! - remember. And I-I don't."

"He's just trying to get under your skin." Craig answers with no hesitation. "Is your neck okay?" I remember I'm bleeding, having been bitten by the crazy teenager. It aches but its nothing compared to the fear. Fear which isn't dying quite as fast as I'd like.

"But you said again." Why don't I just let it go? "_I didn't think he'd go after you again._" I quote him. He kisses the top of my head; an easy feat for someone so tall. "You said again."

I repeat. "You must have heard me wrong." Craig shrugs it off like its no big deal. I know I didn't hear him wrong. Right? "Do you want to go home?"

I haven't socialized in forever. I don't think that I should go home now and give up this opportunity to make friends. Even though – I don't want to think about that. I tell him no. Craig makes me drink some water before we head back to the party. The entire thing took maybe five minutes and no one was loud enough for the other guests to hear a thing.

For the rest of the evening I stick to Craig like glue. I must be having these flashbacks for some reason and besides Craig is a calming presence. He's strong in more ways than one, though I don't know how I know that. Even if he is hiding something from me, I feel like I can trust him. Butters party goes on without much of a hitch. The only bad thing is Cartman being an asshole to the birthday boy.

Both Pip and Butters take an interest in me, sending me sly looks. Its because they are in love with bad boys. I can't quite believe myself when I say that Craig isn't a bad boy. The difference between them and us is that I have Craig. He's mine and everyone here knows it. He hasn't asked me out yet but I know that we're together.

We are more than friends. Butters loves his present. So much so that he jumps up and hugs me. There is a frozen moment where I don't know what to do, but then I find myself wrapping my arms around him, returning the hug. "Your clothes are so cute, Tweek! We should go shopping together sometime." Butters says and like that we make a date to go shopping.

Its all a bit surreal to me, like I'm dreaming. If this is a dream then I never want to wake up. I'm sure its the best dream I've had in a long time. As the party winds down everyone starts to say goodnight and leave. I notice Damien stopping Pip and giving him a wicked fanged smile. Whatever the noirette says to the British blonde, its got him blushing like a school girl.

Cartman is the only one who doesn't leave, sitting on the couch and stuffing his face full of chips. Craig and I leave last, bidding farewell to Butters and promising to go out soon. When we're back in the red car, I let out a sigh. "Did you have fun?" The noir asks me. He starts the car and we head towards my house.

"I did." Under my breath I add, "Mostly." It seems that he doesn't hear the last part. Louder, I ask "Did you have fun?"

"It wasn't too bad." Silence descends upon us. A little while later Craig pulls into the driveway and shuts off his car. Neither of us get out. "Do you mind if I stay the night? Its kind of late,"

Do I want Craig to stay the night? More than anything. But I don't trust myself with him. I want him in ways I've never wanted anyone. His eyes from earlier tell me he wants me just as much. "Its fine."

We get out of the car and when I open the door I'm surprised to see my parents sitting on the couch. They are watching a movie or something, lights off, which is why I didn't notice them earlier. When we walk in their heads turn towards us. Dad looks like he's going to rip off someone's head but he doesn't move. "Good evening honey." Mom greets me.

I find myself choking on what to say. My parents aren't particularly social with me. "I see Craig is over." Mom presses on. She doesn't sound angry, just curious. But dad is glaring daggers at the noirette beside me.

I grab Craig's hand. He squeezes back tightly. "C-Craig is my boyfriend." I tell them. "He's going to spend the night." Dad's jaw drops.

Mom smiles, looking pleasantly confused about something. Before they can say anything, I hurry past them with Craig in tow. Once in my room I lock my door. When I turn around Craig is at the chalkboard, erasing something. Then he's at my stereo and is plugging in his iPod.

The first song sounds really familiar but I don't think I've heard it. Craig tells me the names of the songs as each one comes on. We lay on my bed, him holding me. It feels good to be held and wanted. Most of the songs are love songs, but there are a few which worry me. They unsettle me.

After the ones that I've heard but don't recall where, Craig puts on another song. "Its Where Butterflies Never Die by Broken Iris." It makes me think of soldiers and insane asylums and swirls of paint on the ceiling. As I lay staring up at the ceiling I imagine that the shadows and light dancing across it are doing it in time with the music. That they are dancing for the music. "You told them I'm your boyfriend."

"Aren't you?" I question. Craig rearranges us and tilts my chin up to kiss me. Its our childhood kisses and its much more than that. We kiss a few minutes longer. "Craig will you stay with me forever?"

I murmur against his damp lips. He tastes like beer and koolaid. I didn't see him drink either of those. But I like the combination. Craig holds me closer. "Forever and always, Tweekers."


	6. And Everyone In The Whole World

The telephone rings at precisely 9:30 am, jolting me out of nightmare sleep where Craig was beating a redheaded girl to death in the school bathroom. My hands tremble as I answer it. Before I can say anything Butters cheery voice startles me out of bed. "Wake up Tweek! We're going shopping in Denver today!" Putting a hand to my frantically beating heart, I get up to look out my window.

Sure enough in my driveway there is Butters standing beside his father's car with Pip beside him. I get dressed, wearing feminine clothes from previous shopping trips. I have to admit that I almost look good. My appearance would definitely be better if I had more than just peach fuzz on my head. When I asked her mom told me that I asked her to shave my head for me. Dressed, I go out to meet them.

Both of them hug me. As Pip turns to get into the car I see something disturbing through the strings that make up the back of his shirt. His skin is red with burns and lashes from a whip. If Craig did to me what Damien does to Pip I think I would kill myself. Because killing Craig is out of the question and I get the feeling that I can never hide from the noirette. The drive to Denver is filled with the techno music that they've been filling my ears with.

It makes my feet tap and my head bob up and down. I can't help my fingers from playing out elaborate notes on the denim of my black jeans. My lips move with words I've never really listened to but have somehow picked up. Butters and Pip are both so used to this that they no longer keep asking me what I'm saying. "I think Eric is going to ask me out soon."

In the passenger side mirror Pip and I exchange looks. Butters has been saying that for two weeks. We both think he's frustrated that Craig and Damien have stepped up and asked Pip and I out. I do my best to not discourage him by remaining silent. Pip, on the other hand, asks why Butters thinks that. The rest of the car ride to Denver is filled with techno music and the two blondes in the front seat talking about the signs.

In the backseat I remain mostly quiet, a few whispered words slipping from between my lips. We go to the mall and browse the shops for hours. There are only a limited number of stores here but somehow we manage to kill most of the day. Jock and skater kid stores we avoid, having no reason or desire to go into them. Which leaves stores for women and kids. All three of us have slender builds.

Pip is the shortest and I'm the tallest, which honestly isn't saying a lot. After about five hours of shopping and carrying bags of clothes, my head starts pounding. Mutely I pray for it to not turn into one of the migraines I've been recently getting. As the pain in my head increases, I feel my energy draining from my limbs. Without saying a word to the others I leave the store to find someplace to sit down. It doesn't take long for them to find me sitting on a couch trembling so hard that it would put an earthquake to shame.

Butters looks on with concern, his teal eyes worried. "Did you bring your pills?" Mom took me to the doctor once I started getting these migraines. I was prescribed pills that dull it down to a normal headache and wear off after three hours. Because I'll bite off my tongue if I try to talk, I shake my head no. In my minds eye I can see the translucent orange bottle sitting on my nightstand beside the phone; right where I left it.

Without discussing it the shorter blondes take my bags from around my feet and wait for me to gather the energy to stand up. When I do there is a head rush that makes my vision disappear. Steadily the headache gets worse and worse. By the time we get to the car I can barely stand. While they put our loot in the trunk I lay down on the backseat and pray to God to make the pain go away. The drive back is a car ride from Hell.

Every bump, every turn, every time the brake and gas is stepped on, I can feel and hear them all magnified. Butters has put his vest over my head so that the sun doesn't reach my eyes and make it worse. The air conditioning is on full blast for which I'm both thankful and not thankful for. Its loud but the cold air feels good. They get me to my empty house and into bed. The British blonde makes me swallow my prescribed dosage of medication while Butters draws the curtains on my window.

They know how to take care of me. After setting my bags down and bidding me farewell and well-wishes, they both leave. My ears tune into the air conditioning in my house. Normally a quiet humming, now its magnified to a train racing past. Cars are jets soaring just outside the window. It feels like a meteoroid is bouncing around my skull.

The worse part is my own heartbeat. Its like drums inside of my body. Seven hours later I feel well enough to get up. I force some pretzels into me and drink more water in tiny sips. From the medicine cabinet I get some aspirin and take two more than the advised dosage. And promptly throw it back up in the sink.

Well, you can't accuse me of not trying. I have these strange thoughts that tell me I never get a break. No one ever makes anything easy on me. If its not someone else, its my own body abusing me. Like I said, they are strange thoughts. When mom and dad come home I don't mention the migraine.

We eat dinner together – which I manage to keep down – and retire to the living room. They don't ask me how my day was and I don't ask them. We watch a documentary on graffiti. Its interesting, but I'm not interested at the moment. I jump when the doorbell rings. As I expected, its Craig at the door.

My father refuses to speak to my boyfriend. He hasn't given me a reason why and its killing me. Even though my parents aren't really a part of my life I want them to approve of my boyfriend. Mom seems to be happy enough. She keeps saying how great it is that I'm giving Craig a second chance. When I ask about that she gives me a strange look that both of them get when I speak so I stopped asking.

We go up to my room and he has me model all of the new clothes I bought. I don't know why he doesn't just wait and see, but we have fun. He kisses me and his hands wander, frustratingly not to the places I want them to. Craig tells me its because if he indulges any more than this, he won't be able to stop. Its a thrilling and scary thought. Then again, Craig is a thrilling and scary person.

Not that I would ever tell him in a million years about my fear of him. I'm not entirely sure its well-placed. Its not like I want to be afraid of him or keep things from him. But I know Craig is dangerous just like I know Craig loves me. The memories and dreams tell me that much. Anything can trigger them; stiletto heels, coffee, the scent of Camel cigarettes, school lockers.

Water in particular is one that brings on memories. Dozens of them. Last time I took a shower I had a memory of Craig, Ruby, and I in our bathing suits running through sprinklers. Ruby is the one thing I never talk to Craig about. I don't use her name or give any hint that I know she existed. I'm still not sure she did.

Craig is studying me with those storm-cloud eyes. No one else has eyes like Craigifer Tucker. Craigifer? "Whats on your mind Tweekers?" I'm slipping back into my skinny jeans and a band shirt I stole from Craig's closet the last time I was over. Since he hasn't asked for it back, its become the shirt I wear most.

On my iPod is a playlist entitled Remember Everything. It has all of the songs from my diary downloaded to it. The mystery of it all sometimes makes me want to scream with frustration. This angry, confused side of me is one I never let Craig see. My instincts warn me against being anything but a perfect boyfriend to the noirette. I don't know why.

It could be the memories of being slammed against lockers. Or having a stranger walk outside my window with a German Shepherd dog. Then again it could be Craig beating his cousin Red in the bathroom and me screaming at him to not kill her. Its possible that it could be seeing Ruby raped, eaten, and then running away without even attempting to help her. What about standing across from Craig in a logged forest and seeing a brilliant blue light flash?

My mask slips into place perfectly. "J-just thinking about – nngh! - you." The key to lying is to stick as close to the truth as possible. A slender black eyebrow raises in question. I join him on my unmade bed. "Spend the night?"

Tempting him is pretty much useless. Craig never gives in to my requests to fuck senseless. Whats so bad about him losing control? Just once. "Tweek, I," His expression is that guarded remorseful one.

"Can't." I finish for him in a voice completely void of emotion. "I want to but I can't." Its one of the few sentences I can get out without that fucking speech impediment getting in the way. He looks guilty and sad but doesn't deny it. With a sigh I roll off of him.

"Why a-are we – gah! - dating if i-its not going to go anywhere?" Its a valid question. I'm not greedy or anything, but advancing in a relationship seems to be the logical thing to do. He opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off. "Do you t-think I'm ugly – nngh!- or something?" The shocked expression on his regal face tells me otherwise.

"Of course I don't! You're beautiful Tweekers." Beautiful is an odd way to describe me. I'm not beautiful. Craig is beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful.

The atmosphere changes. In an instant I know that he's given in. His tan scarred hand comes up to cup my cheek while his lips press to mine. I press back. We alternate pressure and the lengths of our kisses, never really parting. When my head starts spinning I turn my face away, take a breath through my mouth, and kiss him again.

Craig places small kisses along my jaw, just below my ear, down to my neck. My body squirms happily as I run my fingers through his silky black hair. A noise comes from Craig that sounds like a purr or a growl of content. For a brief moment I'm left reaching out, looking for those black locks again, then Craig is back shirtless. I sit up and we take off my stolen shirt, tossing it to the ground. Desiring skin-to-skin contact I arch up against him.

The noirette's tan skin is smooth. A content sigh passes my lips. Lips continue down my chest. His warm mouth pauses at each of my nipples to lick and nip gently before continuing downwards. He stops at my waistline to slide off my jeans and boxers. I fumble with the button on his jeans before the noir helps me.

Craig stretches out naked on top of me. Our hearts beat against each other. My eyes slide closed. A sample packet of strawberry lube is opened and when I look Craig is coating his member with the substance. His sticky hand goes between my legs. "Oh..."

Pain is fleeting. We collide. Our movements are synchronized. I can't help but look at him. He's so beautiful and wonderful. When he catches me looking, Craig leans down and kisses me.

My hands glide over his body, memorizing it. We gaze into each other's eyes. I'm in complete and utter bliss. I don't think there is anything better than this. Heat spills into me. Spent, we lay side by side.

His heart pounds in time with mine. Craig's breath tickles my neck. Our heat keeps me warm. Even though that part is over this is better than anything I've dreamt of. Don't let it end. We're lulled to sleep by an ageless song.

When Craig goes home the next day, I'm a bit sad though I expected nothing less. Last night was amazing. As I pour myself a cup of coffee, my father looks at me like I'm a stranger. As though I'm not his son anymore. When was the last time I felt like a son? I don't even remember.

Going to school I feel like I'm glowing. Apparently I look as happy as I feel because Kyle, Butters, and Pip all ask me about it. For whatever reason, Kyle has kind of become my friend; not that I'm complaining. Token and Clyde – Craig's best friends – joke about it. Except that they hit the nail on the head.

Craig doesn't bother to deny it, so neither do it. Though I don't say anything to encourage them. Token invites us to stay at his grandmother's house next weekend. Since mom is always trying to get me to do stuff, I agree without bothering to consult my parents. That is, I agree once I'm sure Craig will be going too. Today I seem quite popular because my friends come sit at the table with Craig's.

They seem to be welcomed. Although I don't think anyone would tell Damien no. On my way back from throwing away my trash, I notice that the back of Pip's shirt is red. Red with fresh blood. "P-P-Pip! You're bleeding!"

After I say it and see Pip's face, I realize that I shouldn't have. Maybe just whispered it in his ear or something. Damien's brow furrows. But Pip just smiles and excuses himself. The antichrist follows him. When they are gone Butters frowns.

"He's always hurt now that he's dating Damien." The rest of our table is quiet. The blonde's words strike something inside of me. I find myself staring at Craig thinking about how similar Pip and I are. Why these thoughts entered my head I couldn't tell you. Most days it feels like my mind isn't my own.

Craig is careful with me. Most of the time he thinks about what he says before saying it. Sometimes he slips up and I catch him in what I think is a lie. Its hard to say if these memories are real. They feel real, but I know how easily reality can be warped. Whenever I bring it up, Craig brushes it off.

We're hiding things from each other. At home alone. Mom and dad left a note saying that they are going to an art convention in Denver and won't be back for a few days. Every night Craig gives me another song to listen to. Memories by Within Temptation. Counting Stars by Sugarcult.

My favorite is Forevermore by Broken Iris. It reminds me of the night we made love. Who knew I would use that phrase instead of saying fucked or had sex? I like it better anyway. Its not crude and it describes what we went through better than any other way of saying it. Anyway, its time to write stuff down.

In my dresser I find a diary with other songs written down, their lyrics beside them. Words are highlighted, written over a few times, underlined with red. Every song Craig gives me I write in the book and go through to highlight and mark up key words. It only seems right to continue doing this, though I'm not sure were the first dozen songs came from. Probably Craig. Its the dates I've written beside them that don't make any sense to me.

The thought of sleep both terrifies and excites me. Its a chance to remember. Sometimes the things I remember aren't good. Sometimes they are very good. Either way, they break my heart. As I'm walking downstairs to get some more coffee, I notice the black marker on the wall.

I feel like my brain has been blocking this from me. Then again, I haven't taken the time to look at my house. I've been coming and going so much it just didn't register. Reading the words on the wall, my throat closes. Tears spring to my eyes and my hands go to my mouth. Oh my god.

The conversation comes flooding back to me. This is physical proof that I knew Craig. Well, no, it isn't. But it is at the same time. My mind feels blown. Oh, what do I do?

Upstairs in the guest bedroom-turned-studio, I find black spray paint. Then I go back down and pop open the lid. After shaking the can I start painting. The bitter smell of paint fills my nose and puts a bad taste in my mouth but I continue on. There are eyeballs and butterflies and inverted crosses. I paint the flames of Hell, the clouds of Heaven, music notes, an open book flipped to an empty page and light bulbs.

Snowflakes, snakes, mouths filled with sharp teeth, and endless spirals adorn the space. Some words get mixed up in the confusion and chaos. Scrambled thoughts and pieces of memory. Its written in gibberish, letters placed over each other so that they can't be read. But I know what they say. By the time I finish most of the wall is covered and my hands are back.

I open the front door and take a deep breath of sharp, cold air. How is that for shock art? Taking a pack of Camel cigarettes out of my pocket I light one. I don't smoke it because I don't smoke. The scent just calms me. The cigarettes and lighter I found under my bed while I was looking for a missing sock.

I never did find that sock. Sitting on my front step I look out into the night. Something tells me there can be no lose ends. Christophe and Damien taking Kenny from Butters birthday party enters my mind. I know he's my rapist. That dream I had a long time ago.

There are things I have to know and once Craig told me that Kenny is the only one who remembers. I imagine Damien remembers as well. Grabbing the cordless phone I call Pip and ask to speak with Damien. "What?" Not even a hello. Before starting I swallow.

The words get stuck in my throat. I go over them a few times before finally spitting them out. "You remember don't you?" For a moment the other end of the line is silent. I think he may have hung up.

Finally a sigh tells me that he is still on the line. "I think the question you want to know is will I tell you what I remember." Damien says in reply.

So he does remember! I need to know everything! There are gaps and I want them filled. "Please tell me!" I beg him. Another sigh comes from the other end.

"Tweek, you really don't want to know." He sounds serious. "I'm saying this because you're Pip's friend." I didn't think Damien really cared about the British blonde. I suppose I was wrong. I'm glad I was wrong.

"Damien I-I have to know! Gah! There are holes in my m-memories and – nngh! - I can't take this n-not knowing anymore! I don't know if I can – ack! - trust Craig."

"Listen to me carefully Tweek. You cannot trust Tucker." A cold stone plops down right into my belly. "Tucker is the reason your life is a living Hell. He's why you can't talk properly and why you get migraines and all of the other bad shit in your life is solely his fault. Even your parents leaving for days on end is his fault."

What? These are the gaps I have. My parents used to be loving, doting parents. My speech got better after I cut back on coffee and ADHD pills. The migraines came out of virtually no where. "At this point, its safe to say that Tucker's given you brain damage."

Brain damage? I remember that flash of blue light. "What are you – argh! - talking about?" The cold has spread to the rest of my organs. It feels like I have ice cubes in my veins. Something Kenny says comes to mind.

"He erased my memory." I don't make it sound like a question because its not a question. Its the fuzziest bit in my jumbled, confused mind but its still there. On the other end Damien gives a noise of confirmation. Because I don't know what to say I hang up the phone. How do I go on knowing this?

Numb. That's how I feel. But its not the same kind of numb that I know I felt previous to all of this craziness. This is hard to describe. Maybe I'm in shock. My feet take me to the park.

I sit on a swing, not swinging. Three hours of sitting on a cold swing with not a thought in my head. Snow drives me away from the park. I don't go home. This has already been done before. The thought is almost enough to make me laugh, but I just don't.

I completely misjudged Craig's character. I feel like an ant beneath his perfect fucking shoes. Dying crosses my mind and it has a certain appeal. Like standing on the edge of a cliff looking out to sea and every fiber of your body telling you to jump. Once my mother – in a rare state of clarity – told me that people aren't afraid of heights, they afraid that they might jump. I can understand that.

I mean, when you stand at the edge of a high building or on a cliff or even on a bridge, what is the first thing you want to do? Fling yourself off of it. But like I've said, I've been through the suicidal stage and I'm past it. Except that I don't know if I want to be over that part of my life. Do I really want to keep living? A spider crawls onto the bench beside me and I nearly leap out of my skin at the sight of it.

Fuck, I hate spiders.

"_Why do you hate spiders, Tweek?" My therapist asks. He's just a new school therapist but I'm not allowed to walk freely for some reason. Every day I'm sent here to be subject to this embarrassment. They don't understand it adds fuel to the fire. The leather chair squeaks as I shift restlessly. _

_Why do I hate spiders? Because...Because...I don't know. I smile because I don't know why I hate them. There is so much I don't know. _

_My therapist smiles, thinking its encouraging. He thinks its the proper response. As I look at him and around his office I think of how many other students get trapped here. Maybe even the staff has to come to this place. Then it clicks into place; the reason I hate spiders. The king is a spider and I'm caught in his web._

"I don't -" But I stop myself before I say the rest of it. The phrase that started this fucking shit. My hands go to my head in a familiar fashion but I don't have much hair to grab. Regardless my fingers curl until my nails are digging into my scalp. I let out a screech of frustration.

Oh Craig if I could kill you I would and with no hesitation. Except I remember what he was like before Peru. Craig was a caring, doting boyfriend a lot like he is now, but even better. With a sigh I lean back on the bench. The spider is out of sight for the moment. Even though the temperature is dropping rapidly I stay out all night.

After all, who is going to care that Tweek Tweak is outside in the cold? Who would care if he got hypothermia or pneumonia and died? No one. Not a single damned soul in this entire fucking world is going to care. "F-fuck everyone. Fuck everyone -ack! - in the entire world."


	7. Amen

"And every time you see a rainbow in the sky, remember that it is God's promise to us that he will never again destroy the Earth with water." That's what I'm supposed to think of when I look at a rainbow? Not how faggy I am? Not how pretty and unique it is? That some hybrid isn't going to flood the Earth but the jury is out on everything else? I feel like that's total bullshit.

The pastor goes on speaking about birds now. The raven which didn't come back when Noah sent it out first and then the idiot dove which decided to return to the smell boat. God, I don't want to be like that dove. Oh fuck I am the goddamn dove. Normally I don't whine at all, but this time I can't help it. "Mom, w-w-why are we in fucking church?"

I see mom's eye twitch, a sign that she's unhappy with me. "Tweek, sweetie, if you cuss in church you'll go to Hell." What?! Why would she tell me that?! I don't want to go to fucking Hell! Wait, does thinking it make me go to Hell too?

Shit! I'm so screwed. "B-but mom we aren't – nngh! - religious." I try telling her. In response she gently hits me over the head with the pamphlet they gave her on the way in. Even though it didn't hurt I'm offended that she would hit me with that wasted piece of paper.

Something is definitely going on and I don't like it. Thankfully before the choir can start up again, one of my migraines hits me square in the head like a semi-truck. Oh, I think I'm going to Hell early. This sucks balls but at least it gets me out of church. Mom takes one look at me and shoos me off. This is an older church – the kind with the graveyard in the back – and I slip out the door and around to sit on the back steps.

On my way out a few old people glare at me. Sitting on the cool steps I look up to the cloudy sky. There is a rainbow just like that weirdo was talking about. "So – nngh! - how am I going to die God?" Naturally there is no response. I take my pills out of my pocket and swallow a few dry.

When I feel better I think about ditching this place to find Craig. In my head I think of him as the spider king. Why not, eh? The king has taken total control of my life and like a fly I can't seem to get away from him. Its not for lack of trying. Somehow I feel a little better acknowledging this.

Glancing around I sneak a pack of cigarettes out from my jacket pocket. A lighter is fished from my sock. I don't know where the cigarettes came from; I just found them in my dresser. A sneaking suspicion tells me they are whats left of the first pack Craig ever smoked. See? I'm caught. I even bought a damn lighter to smoke them with.

Of course this is another thing Craig doesn't know about me. I'm beginning to relish my secrets. Not that I have many. The king doesn't even know its me who tastes like smoke because he always has a cigarette in his mouth. My other secret is that I remember so much these days. Fragments of memory come to me in dreams and in flashes during my waking hours.

Things have gotten strange. Particularly with me. Smoke drifts off into the sky, making the rainbow slightly more hazy. Looking out over the gravestones I think about shooting myself. Death is often on my mind. Death and Craig and what else is there in life?

Every thread of my existence tells me that this is temporary. Soon I'm going to pull a dog move and run out into traffic. I'll get hit by a car and die and that will be the end of it. Probably. "Tweek, what are you doing here?" Comes the polite trill of a British teen to my left.

Instantly I feel guilty. Pip doesn't know about my smoking habits. However, as he sits beside me he doesn't comment on it. "Can you g-go to church?" I ask, curious since Damien is the antichrist and I feel like it would have some effect on him. To my surprise Pip smiles.

"Not consistently." The Brit explains, "Damien says I get church dust on me." Church dust. Huh. Natural Damien repellent.

"Tweek, Damien wants me to inform you that if you do go through with it you will go to Hell." I eye Pip warily as I take another drag. That they talk about me makes me uncomfortable. What did I expect, though? Now Pip looks at me shyly. "I don't want to persuade you to do something rash, but Hell isn't as bad as people think."

"T-thanks." I have to tell him. "Things are...already set in – gah! - stone, s-so to speak." To his credit, Pip doesn't ask how or why or any other complicated question. Then something occurs to me. "You won't tell – nngh! - Butters will you?"

Slowly the blonde shakes his head. "I do not think Butters needs to know. It would just upset him." Glad that he agrees I feel a bit more inner peace. That's one less thing to worry about. Not that I'm overly concerned about anything except failing.

The funny thing about suicide is that once it enters your mind you can never really get it out. Its like the ocean beckoning you into her depths. Its like falling down a hole, climbing towards the surface, and slipping again. "Its a new chapter, Tweek. Are you going to see where it will take you or are you going to end it abruptly?" Pip comments.

He has no idea how right he is. It is a new chapter. There aren't many in the story of my life. Most of the pages are damaged. "Its going to be a – ack! - short chapter. Just a-a quick finish."

Pip's head bobs up and down in a nod. How can he talk about suicide so lightly with me? Its like we're talking about the weather or something. "And Craig?" With my free hand I scratch my head to buy some time. Finally I look at my sneakers.

"What about Craig?" My voice sounds dead even to me. Pip doesn't ask for an explanation to my question or my voice. I think on some level he knows. Most of my life has been centered around me and in extension Craig, so I haven't paid much attention to anyone else. I don't know if Pip and Damien have the same sort of relationship as Craig and I.

He says a quick goodbye and leaves me alone on the stoop. My cigarette is just a stub so I squash the rest of it against the concrete and flick it away into the grass. With determination in my mind I get up from the steps and walk away. One day I'll be in a graveyard, one day soon. As I'm walking down the street everything clicks into place. I can almost hear the click.

My entire world does a 360 then bursts into flame. The flames die. I clutch my chest. Only ash is left. It was like I was waiting for that piece to slide into place before I could let go. It must have been the only thing keeping me going for so long.

My thoughts come clearly. One stands out in particular. I. Can't. Do. This.

If there is one thing I've learned its that people never change. They won't change in a day, a week, a month, a year. Its the people who can't change, that long for it the most. Craig won't change and neither will I. No one can bring Ruby back or erase that horror. So many things could have changed the outcome; things that didn't happen.

A scream builds up in my throat and I don't try to hold it in. This is everyone's fault. Tears fall down my cheeks in twin waterfalls. Things won't change and they won't get better. Craig will never stop erasing my memories. By the time he finishes, I may wish I was dead.

I will not have that happen! I'd rather burn in Hell! Hauling myself to my feet I take a few unsteady steps. Then a few more. My footing assured, I increase speed. A moment later I'm sprinting down the sidewalk towards my house.

On my way up to my room I gather the necessary supplies. God said we wouldn't die a watery death. He said nothing about what I have in mind. It could be considered practice for later. I'm sorry; I think to no one in particular. I know all sides of the story.

Mom always staying outside of the house and away from me makes sense. I had her baby murdered twice and both times I came back as someone else. I loved her but I hate her for abandoning me when I needed her most. Still, I'm sorry I wasn't the son she loved.

Father is like mother. In his eyes I betrayed him by getting together with someone he sees as being the killer of his son. I know I failed him. But he didn't help me either.

I understand that Craig wouldn't have gone crazy if I hadn't given him a chance. If I stood beside him there would have been a different outcome. I drove Craig to the abuse and memory erasing. Please don't hate me for what I've done.

Ruby is one of my biggest regrets. She was like my little sister and I loved her like one too. I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most. I didn't even try to help her. I beg for her to not blame me but how can she not when I blame myself?

I wipe the tears away only for them to be replaced a moment later. The pain in my chest hurts like nothing I've felt before. Then again, I've never known the full story before.

I remember everything. I want my pain to go away. All of them; they are the reasons that I died twice and regret most of my life. If we could start again...But we can't.

If I could be the old Tweek that everyone loved I would. But he's been dead a long time and I'm here now.

I put down my pencil. Beside it on the desk is a box of matches. By my feet an empty can of gasoline lays. The smell is heavy in the air. With a twisted smile I light a match. When it dwindles down to nothing I drop it.

Strike a new one. Carefully I take it to the window. It flickers but stays lit. Then I drop it onto the wet stain in my carpet. Flames leap up the walls. They consume my curtains and posters. Nonchalantly I go to my desk and sit down again.

As the fire surrounds me I feel myself getting drowsy. The smoke hurts my lungs. It makes my eyes and nose water. Slowly I close my eyes. Before I die I say a silent prayer. The only one I know; a bedtime prayer.

It hurts to open my eyes but I do anyway. The ceiling I'm looking at is white with billions of little holes. Your typical institute ceiling. What happened? "Hey Tweek." My neck has a kink in it that makes it difficult to move my head towards the speaker.

Its a noirette boy with eyes like storm clouds. He looks worried and relieved all at the same time. I haven't seen him since we boarded the plane to Peru. "Craig?" I manage to croak out. It feels like my voice hasn't been used in years.

"Yeah. I'm glad you finally woke up." My stiff body tells me that I've been laying down for a long time. Craig takes one of my hands in his and kisses the back. "You've been in a coma since the plane crash." Tears threaten in his eyes and for some reason I feel that its wrong Craig cries.

I brush his cheek, my movements uncoordinated and nearly poking him in the eye. "I missed you so much Tweekers." The noirette leans to kiss my forehead. Then he looks me in the eye and I feel captivated. "I swear I'll never leave you, Tweek. We'll be together forever."

And I smile because that's all I've ever really wanted.

* * *

**-EDIT- I just couldn't kill him. Even as I was writing this at five in the AM I was thinking that he dies way too often in my stories. Then one of my DA Watchers asked me a great question. What about Craig? And I thought, what about Craig? Who cares? But...then I got an idea. **

**If you don't get it, Craig found Tweek before he died. More memory erasing and when Tweek wakes up he's told he was in a coma for years. -smile- And that he and Craig will be together forever! xD**

**Now shut up and quit bitching. -.- **

**-end Edit-**

**That is the end. There shall be no more.**

**This chapter is half the size of the other ones. It was meant to be spontaneous. ****For those of you confused by the rapid ending...All of Tweek's memories and his "past lives" are all in place. Not all of it has hit him yet though. When it does - mostly that nothing will ever change and its a vicious cycle - he has a breakdown (too bad I didn't finish this in time for that contest, eh?). In the end Tweek writes a letter of sorts that he expects no one to read about his family and whatnot. Then he lights a match and the room goes up in flames.**

**-Fun fact- Most fire-related deaths aren't because of the flames; they are because of the smoke.**


End file.
